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The Ready Aim Fire!
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Only Death
Through all that frantic summer sex, / well, you could summarize my bones, / and yeah, we probably should've guessed / those months were loans. // And it was right when winter peaked / when we were screaming in the streets. / We had no pity for the weak, / but, damn, we're weak. // So you shot up in bed at night. / I kept my eyes closed while you packed. / I thought you'd lose your appetite / when it bit back. // But you were singing “Wicked Game.” / I'd never felt such brutal flames. / We swore that only death could make us tame, / and now we're tame.
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