Why, do you pick at, and pluck my feathers? Stir boil me in your petty pot… my skin now hot and bothered
I smell what cooks inside you, wafting up adorning your sleeve and collar, the shadow casting from your heart…. is jealousy as you holler.
Why, do you pick at, and pluck my feathers? Stir boil me in your petty pot… my skin now hot and bothered
I smell what cooks inside you, wafting up adorning your sleeve and collar, the shadow casting from your heart…. is jealousy as you holler.