My beds are always empty
If you don't count the ghosts
'Cause I have those aplenty
His name is Rose
So dear Rose is home
The sack of skin,
Is home somewhere I've been?
I can trace back my tracks
I can trace back my tracks.
Remorse in me is dwindling
Should I be wanting it back?
I can trace back my tracks
I can trace back
I need some of that wonderbread
My blood, dark red
Some things, not said
Not said
|
Switch to Russian 
