Luthy

Belch
The rats, the rats, the rats, the rats
I see it every day I see it crumble and crack
It collapse
Believe, when it bleeds, I do too
But I've lost the fucking will to continue with that
I've proved
There's wrong in right and you'll learn to love
Feeling sick to yourself, it turns you on
Feel ill when you think of your Fathers Son
Or your Sisters Sister
Or your daughters Mum
You're it, you're sick and you're fucking up
Believe what you want
And you can't be wrong

I love you, I love you
I love you, I love you

The rats, the rats, the rats, the rats
When it sees you don't know till make it known
It'll move in next door and it'll sting your phone
It's in your head now, and it's nice and warm

It's disgusting and cozy, it turns you on

You're it, you're sick and you're fucking up
In the most beautiful way
That's imaginable
You're a bitch, you're killed and your worthless cunt
And I'll follow you, anywhere you go
Take my hand, and lead me there
Shake me up leave me anywhere
Take my hand and lead me there
Shake me up leave me anywhere

Woof, woof



Credits
Writer(s): Alistair Crackett
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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