Let’s get a house, you and me and your twelve cats
We’ll put mirrors on the ceiling
We’ll have a bunk bed by the bath
You’ll line my mattress with nails
One for every time something psycho came out of your mouth
Your cavern eyes are preying
Your scarlet lips half saying
A sales pitch for the circus in your mind
We’ll put mirrors on the ceiling
We’ll have a bunk bed by the bath
You’ll line my mattress with nails
One for every time something psycho came out of your mouth
Your cavern eyes are preying
Your scarlet lips half saying
A sales pitch for the circus in your mind
Young lady, you’re scaring me
Dumbbell right to the temple
Carry me to your shrine
Dedicated to the prince of the last of your nine lives
She waited in the darkest corner all night
Until I closed up shop, I turned out the lights
Then she begged for me to drive her home
I thought about the Kensington Strangler as I was about to say no
When we pulled up to her bleeding dollhouse
She said: Park behind the hearse
I said: No need, get out and take your purse
Young lady, you’re scaring me
Remember that time you wrote me two hundred letters, never once to a single reply?
Remember they all referenced a love that wasn’t real?
Considering we talked maybe one or two times
Young lady, you’re scaring me
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