Foul Mouth

(альбом: Baby Teeth - 2006)

You're in rapture my dear
If you ever come near
Hell's belt with a frown
Turn your town upside down
And here's a little with youth
Silly coy and uncouth
I will settle you down
When your menace surrounds

From serene to the sick
Many coils that stick
To all our leather boots
Rattled with fickled truth
And I am tired of your mouth
When you're talking about
The injustice of speech
On a bus to the beach

The heat up here's divided time
With earthly men on concubine
And circles strangled clever girls
Who dress up in their mother's pearls

I remember you still
Yellow fangs and sick pills
Sucking on your own blood
Calling cards to crack up
In a forest with beasts
Our old lady found peace
Grabbed its tail with her teeth
And drove her son into the sea