Laid

This bed is on fire with passionate love

The neighbors complain about the noises above

But she only comes when she's on top

My therapist said not to see you no more

She said you're like a disease without any cure

She said I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh no

Ah, you think you're so pretty

Caught your hands inside the till

Slammed your fingers in the door

Fought with kitchen knives and skewers

Dressed me up in women's clothes

Messed around with gender roles

Line my eyes and call me pretty

Moved out of the house, so you moved next door

I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall

I found you sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone

You're driving me crazy, when are you coming home?

Laid, laid