Running off over next doors garden before the hour is done
It’s more a question of feeling than it is a qestion of fun
The confidence is the balaclava, I’m sure you’ll baffle ’em good
But the end in reek of salty cheeks an running make up alone
Oh well blood runs down the face of a boy bewiledered and scorned
Well you find yourself in a scurmage where you wish you’d never been born
You tie yourself to the tracks an there isn’t no going back
An it’s wrong wrong wrong but we’ll do it anyway cause we love a bit of trouble
You’re pulling her form a burning building an throwing her to the sharks
You can only hope that the envy’ness is as pleasurable as the start
The confidence is the balaclava, I’m sure you’ll baffle them straight
And it’s wrong wrong wrong an she can hardly wait
That’s right, he won’t let her out his sight
Now the shaggers perform an the daggers are drawn
Who’s the krooks in this crime?
That’s right, he won’t let her out his sight
Now the shaggers perform an the daggers are drawn
Who’s the krooks in this…crime!?
That’s right, he won’t let her out his sight
That’s right, he won’t let her out his sight
That’s right, he won’t let her out his sight
You’ll be able to pose tell the day of the most all this heights of old time
You knew that it would be trouble right before the very first kiss
Consuming but the
she asked you to take it off
but you resisted and faught
sorry sweet, please no drama
keep on the balaclava
