Shoes that no man would want to wear Wipe away the night's last cold stare Red fist curled 'round the house Was away boy Shelly's shoes wash
Chocolate power is so crisp The atomic open house is really here And we have gone so desperate Your power knows no bounds And heavier with time Are our shoes That no man would want to wear New tread wipes a wet road so dry it stings
Into the borrowed course Under the dreadful birds Under the singing soil And all those guilty clouds
I have seen too much Wipe away my eyes Too much
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Panic! At The Disco: I Write Sins Not Tragedies [OV]
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