Bloody noses are just like roses/But what happens when we are betrayed?/Would you drag him to the shed/And unload six rounds in their fucking face?
Your standard love song drenched in blood and guts. The rhythmic pulsing has him reeling and the sweet nothings come rolling out like clockwork. He’s asking that his love kill for him, and the macabre tones are as predictable as the weak game he’s spitting. He’s looking for his queen, and searching in the seediest of motels for her. A gory courtship that is as boring as a Hollywood horror flick.