Vindica Te Tibi
She was a candle,
He was the fire,
His friends were the matchsticks
That lit his ego like a pyre.
Her skin was a canvas,
He was a maestro,
A canvas colored blue and black,
A temper like an active volcano.
A day was her birthday,
And the day was the 6th of October,
He would be at the bar nursing...
He was the fire,
His friends were the matchsticks
That lit his ego like a pyre.
Her skin was a canvas,
He was a maestro,
A canvas colored blue and black,
A temper like an active volcano.
A day was her birthday,
And the day was the 6th of October,
He would be at the bar nursing...