It seems to be cold in here, inside the empty head of you
The end of you
It seems to be cold in here, inside the empty head of you
The end of you
When you
When you speak, your pink, pink pout spouts out poison
And without a doubt, they believe you, idiot
Well I know, yes I know, what this is about
I have most definitely figured you out
And a pair of horns to go with your lying grin