Cover me in white linen, cover me in white lies. I whinge about being cold, but wanting to be a low- hanging, snow- covered branch, bending (over backwards) for him, glimmering, freezing cold, melting in his hand like a snowflake. He’s a red flag, but red's my favourite colour.
When he didn’t want me, I didn’t believe him. I saw the way he looked at me. There’s no way he’s had a change of heart. And now he says he wants me. He’s saying how he’ll try? I don’t believe him. I see the way he’s looking at me. There’s no way he’s had a change of heart.
Pushing and pulling and tugging and kicking. He’s like the devil, he just makes me want to sin. And every time he reaches out, I can’t help but let him in.
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