Don't Have Any Scraps Of Gold in Aira

Rain falls gracefully on my forehead
Would've been poetic if it wasn't tragic
A lover who is kind of magic
A puppy to take care

Right up a mansion, bagining on its gate
Longing for the snow, for the fluffy white snow
I'd trade it right away, never felt so hollow
Living in the streets, sleeping on a crate

But I got to slap back to reality
No fairy tale, no hospitaliy
I'll let them beat me up, kill me if
Only they do as they told, they promised
Not to know of my abnormality
To prove them once and for all
that I don't have any scraps of gold

She is so cute, wasn't she a lesbian?
Oh wait a minute I think he's a guy
He looks so skinny, maybe european
His skin is pale and his hands seem dry

Enough for them to blend with thorns and trunks
And rose petals and such
I think he reminds me of someone but I can't figure much
Something like a weird category of porn
and here it comes again, all the memory
Sensory imagination that comes along
The lips, the hips, the snow, the blow
The kill, the slap back
That I don't have any scraps of gold,
I don't have any scraps of gold

So entertaining, fucking memorandum
With a point and a happy ending
On hard cover, is worth recommending
Read it while it's hot, don't forget the condom

Got to slap back to reality
No fairy tale, no hospitaliy
I'll let them beat me up, kill me if
Only they do as they told, they promised
Not to know of my abnormality
To prove them once and for all
That I don't have any scraps of gold