- cifra
It was me
That trimmed my teeth
On a bottle of red
And then I feel the raspberry seed
How can this be
That I'd fear the ones who would hold me?
And inside fires, under those who would never chase me
I will recognize
One of these late nights
All I've left behind
It was me
Bit the hand that feeds
And slipped away
Without thought of the bleed
How can this be
That I'd fear the ones who would hold me?
And inside fires, under those who would never chase me
I will recognize
One of these late nights
All I've left behind
