Tiago's words cut like knives but oddly now they make me feel right
Tiago's words are way too much but I scratch I can see where possibly I am
They soak me like an emergency They are made of three quarters pain And the rest pure life. Maybe Tiago is right. His words are like light In such a pitch black night
You could be using me playing with me A non-loving Humbert for this ever nymphet you'd be