Historias

What if you come
With a knife in your hand
Ready to bury it
In my back

What if you have
Under that skirt
A loaded gun
Ready to fire

What if you come
To bury me
To hide my flesh
To burn it away

And they grow, and they grow
And they grow, my stories
And they grow, and they grow
And they grow, my stories

What if you come
To fuck me up
To rip out my blood
To stab my heart