Flame Fatale کے بول

lost sheep on fifth street peculiar and pained i look her up when i can twelve o'clock witching hou mercedes-benz bobbing for pumpkins again and i offer nothing but the shirt off my back and the heart on my sleeve and the moon and it's not a question of sin or suggestion i just want one warm afternoon not enough hours in one single day for all of her fantastic schemes as saviors and bad boys of butterflied strange rush through her wild-eyed dreams and i offer nothing but the shirt off my back and the heart on my sleeve and the moon she's falling she's falling she's falling again call out the crash crews and crash mannequins my sweet flame fatale she is falling again around me inside me where nobody's ever been nobody's ever been here hypnosis in her soft-focus parade helpless but i can't complain can't move a muscle i won't even try thirty-five bucks down the drain hypnosis in her soft focus parade helpless but she can't complain drawn here by gravity she has no choice burns up in friction and flame