Labored on your subject moans
Damn I never once claimed all that you stole
Poor in heart and rich in sin
Desperate for your drink and stripped of my kin

When the summer rain was all she wrote
The lord’s pity tears don’t fall no more
So if you’d be so kind not to writhe
I’ll claim all you owe

Your empty sight is all I hold
Hands cupped from drought I approach your throne
Cause my queen you mean so much to me I swear
I’ll be swift upon your throat

When the summer rain was all she wrote
The lord’s pity tears don’t fall no more
So if you’d be so kind not to writhe
I’ll claim all that I’m owed
I’ll claim all that I owe
I’ll claim all that I’m owed 

Peter Wolf Crier // Saturday Night

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