| Sometimes I can be up like that
|
| Sometimes I can be down like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be up like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be down like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be up like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be down like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Dysmorphic in doses
|
| Imagine trying to shit out twelve red roses
|
| It’s how I do but not everybody knows it
|
| Imagine how I’d feel to be called a promotionalist
|
| A mitt man, an emotionalist
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be up like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be down like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Some kind, psychosis
|
| Don’t what you call it, oneness might be the closest
|
| A psychotropic segment so tasteless
|
| It tastes sweet
|
| And then it changes
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be up like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be down like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be up like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be down like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be up like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you
|
| Sometimes I can be down like that
|
| When I don’t cross myself with you |