| <5 Star Grave> page <Corpse Breed Syndrome> album page |
Ain't That SaintShe's ridin' fast on the miracle lane5 inches heels and a bottle of ale She's goin' down with the devil tonight Holdin' her breath for the very last time My living fire, my alibi You want me, you need me My razor queen, my guillotine You hold me, you kill me Ain't too despicable god that I worship her lips More than scars & thorns of your sole precious son? I don't need the body of Christ or your funeral culture 'coz all of my sins are conceived in the fire L.A. look and a porcelain skin This baby angel's got a devil within She lights the candle and continues to grind And won't be over till the end of the night |