The machine gunneress is in a state of unrest,
And all grace leaves the party when your boyfriend's a Tory,
We were 16, stealing cigarettes in a suicide robbery,
One that makes me feel less like i'm willing to die.
But our friends, they don't talk to me,
Because I don't say the things that please 'em,
And you blend in a f*cking weasel in a wheel.
(I'll eat you in-between meals)
For us two boys together,
Clinging on to our clothes,
The cemetery's here forever,
So are your bite marks to my bones,
For us two boys together you said you hate it when I go,
For us two boys together,
You've been a long December,
Hurry up now, sun.
Hurry up, hurry up.
Everything that I want to be, and everything that's left,
Is yours to command of me, is yours to undress,
So meet me in the basement shade of an alcoholic's memory,
Don't say I've just been loving you wrong.