[Mourning Widows] The Temp

 

 

 

 

She's my baby. She is a Raygun
Kissing my spaceship. Kill me for fun fun 
She is my sunshine. My only sunshine 
Painting my bluesky. Yellow with jaundice. 
She's temp, she's temp 
She got a special place for you 
She's temp, She's temp 
Underneath her favorite pair of shoes 
Suicides are fed, modern love rises like bread 
Playing catch with living skulls 
Hurry up, somebody's dead, we're still alive 
She my baby, she got the big gulp 
Devour my soul food over and over 
Trouble breathing, my world is strangling 
Lovely gorilla, she strictly hands on 
She's temp, She's temp 
She's into nucleo and nucliete 
She's temp, She's temp 
She makes me feel like I'm hovering 
580 meters over Hiroshima
Just a piece of sun 
On your skin I burn a home 
Lying lotion soothes the pain 
Peel me off before I fall 
She's to blame, she seems a bit insane 
She likes it when it rains all day long 
Happiness is knockin', but she cries 
Then turning out the light she runs at night