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Primitive Reason
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Thoughts, Pen and Paper
She's driving down this golden road in her cadillac
She's got my soul in the bathroom where she,
She tells it secrets of what might have been.
Special secrets of what might have been.
And the fire still burns and the witch still screams
And the fire still burns and the witch still screams
And the fire still burns and the witch still screams
And the fire still burns and the witch still screams.
One-eyed Jack speaks to her through the sheets in a small town,
It's in, it's in a small town, small town, small town.
And the heart still crushes
And the cage gets shut
And the witch still screams
And the wax still lays on our pillow,
The wax, the wax, it still lays on our pillow,
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The wax, the wax, it still lays on our pillow,
Our pillow, our pillow, our pillow, our pillow,
It still lays, it still lays, it still lays.
And the knife still cuts cuz things if not true should not be said.
They should not be said, not be said, not be said.
So vomit will stain and vomit will stink
Cuz just like from the beginning to the end
Two only know the truth and that's why,
That's why lies are great things to them.
That's why, that's why, that's why lies are,
Lies are great things to, to, to, to them,
That's why, that's why, that's why, that's why,
Lies are great things to, to, to, to them.
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