![]() ![]() ![]() So come back to your old black sheep man. So why did you flee?ĭon't you know you can't leave his control, only call all his wild works your own? (See the muddy hoof prints where he carried you?)Īnd there's plenty of ways to claim his crimes tonight,Īnd there's plenty of things to do on his dime.Īnd there's plenty of ways to wear his hide tonight. He's the smell of the moonlight wisteria. Killing softly and serial, he lifts his head, handsome, horned, magisterial. In each dead bed and empty home, in each seething bacterium. That some liar laughed as he composed - some liar I loved to control?â?Ī black sheep boy dissolves in hot cream, in sweet moans, ![]() So why did you bawl from the spell of some old holy song, There are millions of rolling eyes that still cling to me. He says â?there's plenty of things to wear when you come to me, The airwaves stretch and they groan, bleeding, birthing his black diapason. Hell, there's plenty of light still left in your eyes.â?Ī black sheep boy grows horns, breathing smoke through his microphone. He says â?there's plenty of ways to know you're not dying, all right. There's plenty of time to make you mine.â? He says â?there's plenty of time to make you mine tonight, A black sheep boy revolves over canyons and waterfalls.Ī black sheep boy dissolves in syringe or in a shower stall. ![]()
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