Gentile boyfriend

He said
I know
What to do
With your
Tiny limbs

You'll fall
So small
From the trampoline
But it's the cancer
They find
That'll kill you

He said
I know
What to do
With your
Black heart

He said
I know
What to do
With your
Tiny limbs

I won't grow up
I won't grow up
I won't grow up
I won't grow up

Your bent posture
Through manor house
That sells relics
To college girls

But tightly wound
Through my fingers
It's your long hair
That kills me