Texty:
Cold Confession

gotta give you part three of my confessions Gave you buttered toast I dropped and picked up off the floor FYI, it was not a cold sore (Not a cold sore

don't look like me Oh, they know, I know that they don't sound like me You'll dance to anything You'll dance to anything Oh I confess, I confess, to

promises he made me could persuade me Like the loneliness that comes on When I try to go on without him Try to doubt him, I confess, I have to confess

gotta give you part three of my confessions Gave you buttered toast I dropped and picked up off the floor FYI, it was not a cold sore (Not a cold sore

all trapped on a roller coaster; and they won't let me go so it's totally bogus; and every single day it gets cold and colder; so my mood get low like

Four in the morning, heart on my sleeve In your eyes, possibilities I confess this is new to me But maybe this is love I got to know that this thing

's live on Flex or in front of the chicken spot Grimed out, we really live what you rhyme 'bout See me posted up in the Tunnel, with my shines out Ice cold

to the start, another try I got the time so why shouldn't I I got too much time on my hands I tried to visit J I walked out into the cold I see they

mountain of dust im lost With nobody around i cant fuck with the cost Of the cell phone or tow truck or even the cops Nobody gonna find me untill my cold