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A Brokeheart Pro
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Charming Fucker
his backlit silhouette's filled with tales
glowing of charming fucker
she's a charming fucker himself ya know?
his haunting outline's fillin' in with details
I'm real proud of
he should be real proud of them himself
I've gotta stop listening to suicidal songwriters
not that I'm gettin' ideas
it's just that they bring me down
as deep as this low slung guitar
bow your pretty head
pray to me, yeah pray to me
you need a god so bad
don'tcha baby
yeah
pray to me
yeah
pray
to me
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I'm the fire that burns on shadows darker than moods he's swingin'
you see I'm a charming fucker myself
ya know?
He came to me on a Saturday night
and he felt the old religion
he knelt before me numb and blind and sighed
Don't stop listenin' to suicidal songwriters
it's not a bad idea
swinging hard and low like this guitar
bow your pretty head... watch how they surround her
stealing what he knows belongs to only him
leave her as you've found her
bleeding for your every sin
smiling with her sinful grin
selfish fools can't take her in
her tragic heart belongs to him
Now bow your pretty head...
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