Little Boots Songtext

dripping down, down, down
Oh no ms. dirty sheets, no rings allowed

Afraid of the great white lightning

Two young boys come to the dumpster
sipping a satchel of sin
Watching those red horizons
on momma's face; peeling skin
Who'll save the queen from the duchess?
It's only a matter of time.
Retire: you golden prized fighter,
and get up the next in line.

White sense
dressed up in incest
the cardinal's so depressed
Saddle up, pants off: here comes the lovely prize
Do or die, cum-bucket: self-prescribed
Oh you're runnin' it Oh you're struttin' it
Oh you're makin' a scene