You fondle my trigger, then you blame my gun
And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
I never did anything to you, man
But no matter what I try
Youll beat me with your bitter lies
So call me crazy, hold me down
Make me cry; get off now, baby-
It wont be long till youll be
Lying limp in your own handI think i fell in love with Fiona Apple
(
Read more... )