Maybe I'm a baby with a mouth to feed Maybe I'm a cancer waiting to eat Maybe I'm a razor on a wrist to bleed Maybe only water or a bucket of kerosene
It's alright We are landing this ship soon It's alright No more trips around the moon
Momma does the dishes in her wedding ring Daddy never wishes now for anything Sister on the corner like a boy's wet dream All little bit of hell in a bucket of velveteen
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