I wish I was more linguistic. Probably just the wittiest slut you'll ever meet.
There's no drink nor drug I tried, to rid the curse of these lover's eyes. And I feel numb, beneath your tongue. Your strength just makes me feel less strong. But do not ask the price I pay, I must live with my quiet rage. Tame the ghosts in my head, that run wild and wish me dead. Should you shake my ash to the wind. Lord, forget all of my sins. Oh, let me die where I lie. Beneath the curse of my lover's eyes.