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Skin on Skin |
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Nothing more or less than |
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Skin on skin |
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I want to lick the sweat off |
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Skin on skin |
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But don't talk to me about right or wrong |
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Skin on skin |
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I want to cut in deep in |
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Skin on skin |
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I need to sink my teeth in |
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Skin on skin |
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But don't talk to me about right or wrong |
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Skin on skin |
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I want to crush your mouth |
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And skin on skin |
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I want to bruise your lips |
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Tell me what do you know about right or wrong |
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Skin on skin |
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I want to scratch your flesh |
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And skin on skin |
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I need to scrape the bones of |
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Skin on skin |
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You can't teach me a thing about right or wrong |
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London stops |
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And everything's sweet |
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You look out of your window |
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But there's no street |
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The cars are gone |
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The night is dead |
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And the dogs have lost their growl |
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And the air seems stale |
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Cos the lions caged |
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It whimpers low |
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but the beast has been tamed |
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So where's the riot |
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It's much too quiet |
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And my breath taste like |
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Rotten feet |
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There's chatter from my window |
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But it seems so dead |
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And there's no one talking |
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But some talking heads |
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Yes, tonight we go to sleep |
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With the lullabye sound of buildings falling down |
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Hey d'ya hear the scratch of skin on skin |
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Hey d'ya feel the scrape of bone on bone |
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Things get tight, close to the bone |
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We feel fragile tonight |
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We don't like us much |
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But we can stay warm at least for an hour or two |
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Skin on skin |
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I need to scratch and bleed it |
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Skin on skin |
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Just the touch and feel of |
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Skin on skin |
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We don't talk anymore about right or wrong |
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Skin on skin |
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I want to smell the stink of |
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Skin on skin |
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Hot in the summer heat and |
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Skin on skin |
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I never open my mouth about right or wrong |
