|
|
Pay your respects to a greater intellect
Your just a pawn, does this confession turn you on?
I know your kind; you'd do me from behind
And when everyone stares, their eyes will bare the sharpest glare
Everybody knows, beneath your clothes, staring at your toes is just a pose
Everybody good knows how hard you blow
Everybody knows.
You did me wrong, I grinned and played along
Those days are gone. Does this confession turn you on?
I'd see you stoned, lawn chair to gilded throne
You cut your tiny ties and now your dangling by a lie
Everybody knows, beneath your clothes, staring at your toes is just a pose
Everybody good knows how hard you blow
Everybody knows.
You think you're Jesus Christ
You think you're Jesus Christ
You think you're Jesus Christ
You think you're Jesus Christ
You're not my Jesus Christ
You're not my Jesus Christ
You're not my Jesus Christ
You're not my Jesus Christ
|
|
|
|
