She's been popping them out for thirty odd years She's out in the street, gone and her feet are cut to ribbons.
He's round the back smoking crack with underage girls Writing heartache manifestos we'll roll up our sleeves and say “bloody” smiling on production lines holding up his little red box.
I see bleached dry bones; picked clean by wild dogs the valley echoes with their howls
Love is fierce, a fire. Can you feel it burning you? The dictionary tells me that love is; a strong feeling of affection for another person; a...