Laid

This bed is on fire
With passionate love
The neighbours complain about the noises above
But she only comes when she’s on top
My therapist said not to see you no more
She said you’re like a disease without any cure
She said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no
Ah, you think you’re so pretty
Caught your hand inside a till
Slammed your fingers in the door
Fought with kitchen knives and skewers
Dressed me up in women’s clothes
Messed around with gender roles
Line my eyes and call me pretty
Moved out of the house, so you moved next door
I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall
I found you sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone
You’re driving me crazy, when are you coming home
Laid
Laid