Lyrics
Hes on the grindstone
Not Safely stumbling home
He could'a got there quicker but his feet dont know their way alone
You're on his mind though
Like Treakle dancing slow
Bread crumbs on the path that show where you want him to go
He's In the fly trap
The only one that doesnt know
Honeys dripping from her lips, it's to much for him to resist
Steamy moments
Wet, rolling in the grass
Decisions in the damp night air, it's growing fruit that's yet to bare
Morning's twilight
Sweet breath sticking to his clothes
Red lips on his collar, unwind the yarn he's tried to sew
In the fly trap
Building a kennel in the snow
Old dog, new tricks, no time to grow
Maybe next time she don't have to know
Now the pots calling the kettle black
This time she dont want him back
The pots been burnt
Is it for the last time?
Squeezing his grapes fresh from the vine
The pots calling the kettle black
She dont want him back
She's burning
For the last time
She's burning for the last time
In her web now, he can't break free
Her sweet nectar is all he sees
He knows he should go, but he can't resist
Squeeze him tight, he's powerless
Crushed his grapes now she makes him whine
Stripped him bare like a winter vine
Flies trapped in each others game
Pot kettle black it's all the same
Pot kettle black the same
Now the pots calling the kettle black
This time she dont want him back
The pots been burnt
Is it for the last time?
Squeezing his grapes fresh from the vine
The pots calling the kettle black
She dont want him back
Shes burning
For the last time
She's burning for the last time
Crushed grapes
Now you make him whine
Stripped bare
The winter vine
Well pot kettle black the same
Well pot kettle black the same
Pot, kettle, black the
Same
Written by: Harry Marsh, Matt Bunyk-Jones, Shawn Gielen-Relph, Tyler Jameson
