boosted

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-rep AIM

fingers with a close precision
He starts to notice empty bottles of gin
And takes a moment to assess the sins she’s paid for

A lone speaker in a conversation
Her words are swimming through his ears again
There’s nothing wrong with just a taste of what you’ve paid for

Say what you mean, tell me I’m right
And let the sun rain down on me
Give me a sign, I wanna believe

Woah, Mona Lisa
You’re guaranteed to run this town
Woah, Mona Lisa
I’d pay to see you frown

He senses something, call it desperation
Another dollar, another day
And if she had the proper words to say, she would tell him
But she’d have nothing left to sell him