She's got to love herself too bad the lens got in her way time changing off her head so cut off your ears and issues this conversation's done we've covered heads she's covered tails she's cut off her conscience son deep in your head and your still crying but you don't have the right you take sides and spill it at the sink from the spite? from the role of the honor and the gluttonous heap you would use the whole barn up and you love to count sheep so count sheep this diamond's not for sale a big advertisement in our heads one lie won't tip the scale for rich little beggars making big bets they're out to mark the score fat cat's away dead mice decay recouching on the course awake in the bed and lay there cryinging but you don't have the right go on open your finger for another big bite you run all kinds of red lights except the ones on the street when you run out of exits you can always count sheep so count sheep