Sister, I'm not much a poet, but a criminal
And you never had a chance
Love it, or leave it, you can't understand
A pretty face, but you do so carry on,
and on,
and on
I wouldn't front the scene if you paid me
I'm just the way that the doctor made me, on,
and on,
and on,
and on
Love is the red of the rose on your coffin door
What's life like,
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