Petra Three

I don't need a shrink, but a lover that sways, give me time to think, what I might disown, like a brew man’s dray, an arm full of barrels, I know what you're thinking, you don't need to say, my house is a sink, a letter from the town, makes a window display, when hostage rules sorrow, I swerve on the brink, though whole summer’s days, plates gather and stink, the stuff that I down, would make a choirboy drink the heat off my brow, it takes a gold cufflink, to lift open my gate, face like an ice rink, make this ship sail.