Text: Forward Russia. Seventeen.

Lecher, apologize, be sorry
Apologize for you wouldn't want to be a lecher

Slow is the night
That wipes the tears from your eyes

Lecher, apologize, be sorry
Jurassic Park your husk in the burning
Bed of mess you laid
Bleeding conscience knows

Lecher, apologize, be sorry
Apologize for you wouldn't want to be a lecher
Lecher, apologize, be sorry
Apologize for you wouldn't want to be a lecher

Bleeding conscience left you slow

Lie to the tracker, lie to the tracker
Lie to the tracker, let him know
That your heart's on fire
Your eyeball's inflamed
And your arm's incinerated

Lie to the tracker, lie to the tracker
Lie to the tracker, let him know
That your mouth's excited
Your body's entwined
And your tongue's incarcerated

Lie to the tracker, lie to the tracker
Lie to the tracker, let him know
That your heart's on fire
Your body's entwined
And your arm's incinerated

Lie to the tracker, lie to the tracker
Lie to the tracker, let him know

I sit astride your rough-fed cigarette burns
Wondering just what you looked like so long ago
I sit astride your rough-fed cigarette burns
Begging with you, pleading you to know

Lecher, apologize, be sorry
Apologize for you wouldn't want to be a lecher
Lecher, do not deny your body
The right to choose its form and corneal function

Bleeding closer helped you know