| Blood roses, blood roses back on the street now
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| Blood roses, blood roses back on the street now
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| Can’t forget the things you never said
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| On days like these starts me thinking
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| When chickens get a taste of your meat, girl
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| Chickens get a taste of your meat, yes
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| You gave him your blood and your warm little diamond
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| He likes killing you after you’re dead
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| You think I’m a queer, I think you’re a queer
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| Said I think you’re a queer, I think you’re a queer
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| And I shaved every place where you’ve been, boy
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| I said, I shaved every place where you been, yes
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| God knows I know I’ve thrown away
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| Those graces
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| God knows I’ve thrown away
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| Those graces
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| God knows I know I’ve thrown away
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| Those graces
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| The Belle of New Orleans
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| Tried to show me once how to tango
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| Wrapped around your feet
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| Wrapped around like good little roses
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| Blood roses, blood roses back on the street now
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| Blood roses, blood roses back on the street now, now, now, now
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| You’ve cut out the flute from the throat of the loon
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| At least when you cry now, he can’t even hear you
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| When chickens get a taste of your meat, girl
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| Come on, come on, come on, come on
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| Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on
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| When he sucks you deep, yes
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| Sometimes you’re nothing but meat |