Verse 1:
You sell your body,
For precious money,
You sell this goods,
For home and food.
It
struck
me,
Like
ecstasy.
Chorus:
You're moving up and down,
With sound like you bomb the ground,
All yourself made of leather,
Money is all you need for pleasure.
You are cheaper than matchstick,
Soul was raped and feel so sick,
Begone!
Verse2:
You sell your honor,
Like blood for donor,
You've lost your side,
Just never mind.
Pain
struck
me,
Like ecstasy.
Chorus(2x):
You're moving up and down,
With sound like you bomb the ground,
All yourself made of leather,
Money is all you need for pleasure.
You are cheaper than matchstick,
Soul was raped and feel so sick,
Begone!
Slut
© Copyright: Анатолий Крат, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114032800319
Свидетельство о публикации №114032800319
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