Your late teens are hanging on a wall
Lowered down to the first five rows
Convinced me to leave her on her own
Every breath like a curtain closed
But I see legs they're up in the air
There's speech writers with all my tongues
The holy throne heirs in the basement
Saddle up me, like I was a pavement
Between scenes there's dealers making calls
Make a living off of perfect flaws
The sweat drips while you dribble down the phone, innocence left clean off the bone
But I see legs they're up in the air
There's speech writers with all your girls
Holy tightrope, shameless catwalk
Saddle up me, like I was a pavement
