I don't want the texture of love The lying, the lamp, and the dove Tell us, just how many steps from within? The tickets sold out, a venue I've never been I don't need the texture of love God, if you're there, have you cared up above? Angers of mine, I know I'm at the edge Are we accused of crimes that we choose are alleged? Crimes arе alleged Crimes arе alleged Isn't it odd with your teeth and an an eye by the bed? Smile is mad, tracked what you add in your head Give me a cure, hard dance of the shore by the edge [?], I am not guilty of what you allege Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged Crimes are alleged