Lyrics

Bruises colors Reminding my fist of the spring Screaming to try to convince you That you couldn't sing Well I know you don't like it But I know for sure you won't tell These two daddy charges They sure are the hardest to sell Tell me what did I do? What makes me so clumsy When I show my deep love for you Is it brutal or oral I'm shooting always the wrong dove Well I know it doesn't rhyme Tied to my birthtown stove Well I hate the things I do Morning regrets by the one Who forgets what he's done Mental attacks by the priest With a stick church to run You could call it expressive But at least I ain't using no gun I thrive on the sound of a slowly torn Up dress Tell me what did I do? What makes me so clumsy When I show my deep love for you Is it brutal or oral I'm shooting always the wrong dove Well I know it doesn't rhyme Tied to my birthtown stove Well I hate the things I do