Holiday Call

Is that you, my Lord
Hands on my knee, my Lord
Fingers running up my sleeve, my Lord
Asking me to leave with you
My Lord

I freaked at the first of the " "
I'm almost sick again
Our memories are signed away
All the TVs are stoned
It's no construct for prayer

Is that you, my Lord
Hands on my knee, my Lord
Fingers running up my sleeve, my Lord
Asking me to leave with you
My Lord

I freaked at the first of the " "
I'm almost sick again
Our memories are signed away
All the telephones are stoned
It's no construct for prayer

Bitch you know it's got to bounce

Don't lie to me, Charlize
I hardly know you
I know enough to stay away
No rowing boat for you

*mumble mumble* special *mumble mumble* out of date

Don't lie to me, Charlize
I hardly know you
I know enough to stay away
No row a boat for you