'cha like?) What'cha like? (Can you tell me baby?) All night long (All night long) I like 'em brown, yellow Puerto Rican or Haitian with Good conversation plenty big faces
, a 2-way bitch She wastin' up your characters and ain't talk about shit She's a 2-way freak, a 2-way freak She beamin' up your boys for her own private
She may be the face I can't forget The trace of pleasure or regret May be my treasure or the price I have to pay She may be the song the summer sings
She maybe the face I can't forget A trace of pleasure or regret Maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay She maybe the song that summer sings Maybe
me it comes easily I somehow cannot let the seasons pass Without demanding that they last And though I know forever well I also know my private hell
down on my knees As tears rolled down my face I cried "Dear God, I'm thankful I was only dreaming And if I never go to hell, Lord It will be because
leave my private hell. I get outside and I walk around, waiting for my mind to clear, but every window that I look in: I see the same face appear. And
it all comes down to you What can we do when all is done Your life's not the only one Just take a look beyond yourself The reason of your private hell
You are just another lunatic Strait jacket on, keep still you little prick You will be locked in your padded cell Just to face your own private Hell
dyed hair and predictable gestures. Nouveau wankers. There's a thousand empty stages waiting for their empty performances, A thousand empty faces waiting
Tell you same face When I'm shooting the guns the same face that I make when I fuck The back of my hand on your neck pressing your face against the sheets
inside but that shifted to a hate that'd keep me alive Untill your heart stops Then padlock your time box and dropped it in a black marsh To Hell and
the chance to say hello I want to eat you out like jello And mess with your body like the bass and the cello And tell your mom I said hello, you want
to keep cool He snitchin' on a snitch now, there's nothin' to tell Nowadays, your circles should be small as hell Ain't tryin' to meet new faces, this
know what I used to do? I used to watch him eat, and while he was eating I would ask him what he's doing. Haskell Wexler: What the hell are we doing in
Your burning face A charcoal cinder Lump of putrid sizzling flesh Dripping features deforming fast Scream 'til your mouth fuses shut To barbeque I sentence
kno what im talkin bout pop sum tags (chea) i stay preyed up (preyed up) so im on my way (way) you can tell the look on my face (face) 4 to the 5th stay