t’s getting late
In these dead dog days
I need lemonade, for this bitter shot of lecture
My mechanical mates, they can’t see straight
But I know I’m stained
I was fine before I met you

Be yours, be yours
Fine lines, which I’ll cross in time
When all the world is gone

I’m back to my killings days
I apologise I’m a little late
When it’s over ( be yours)
I’ll be your lemonade
I’m in my phantom phase
Locking up my borders like the USA
When it’s over (be yours)
I’ll be your Lemonade

I’m the feminine type
The bad boys don’t like
I can feel the night she sirens me to fake procreate
With a neck placed kiss drawn from my acid lips
And a slide of the hips
I’m a phoenix under your thighs

Be yours, be yours
Fine lines, which I’ll cross in time
When all the world is gone

I’m back to my killings days
I apologise I’m a little late
When it’s over ( be yours)
I’ll be your lemonade
I’m in my phantom phase
Locking up my borders like the USA
When it’s over (be yours)
I’ll be your Lemonade.