название:
автор:
Mary Ann
автор:
Till It Bleeds
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Our own serial killer No doubt in funeral leer Wayward frail dresses Couldn't clear up this mess One day she went too She was obsessed to Droptouch in their throats Her hands were being caught Each of these deaths Put me in holy caress The jury found otherwise And closed their eyes Fifty hogs insight Two hundred outside Trapdoor thud, the very! The game was up for Mary. Where, where? Up in the air Sellin' black puddens penny a pair. Where, where? Up in the air Sellin' black puddens penny a pair. penny a pair penny a pair penny a pair (D'you read me?) [bad word] off nightmare England fever Raining deceiver Everlasting, so Deadly soul! Caught in a cage Dirty bottom stage Cruising for a bruising Behaviour freezing Mary Ann Cotton, She's dead and she's rotten She lies in her bed, With her eyes wide open Sing, sing, oh, What can I sing, Mary Ann Cotton is tied up with string Where, where? Up in the air Sellin' black puddens penny a pair. Where, where? Up in the air Sellin' black puddens penny a pair. penny a pair penny a pair penny a pair (D'you read me?) [bad word] off nightmare
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