Ed-Ape - Coney Island

If I died and you cried for me
Then maybe it would feel much better
If I would have crawled on my hands and knees
Clinging to your jeans
Then maybe we would be together
So baby here's one last love letter
I hope that this one finally says it all
If you come back then I'll put the gun back
And I promise that we can have a ball
And Deer baby
Deer boobie
Let's go to Coney Island
Remember?
When we used to go
And Deer boobie
Boobida
I need ya
I don't wanna be baby
And you don't wanna be with out my love
I fiend for your basilicas I wanna taste your venus
The hands of brunelleschi, botticelli is my penis
I'm breaking Davids arm off for grabbing at your cleavage
Painting frescos on your ass cheeks
In the name of Jesus
Girl I'm looking for my renaissance a reason to return
Placenta covered innocence an instinct to unlearn
A Coney Island bathroom or jacuzzi in Lucerne
Want my balls to slap your clitoris and bust off in your perm
Whether Giancana Mafia or Florentine Firm
Frank Sinatra's in the grave Michelangelo the urn
D' Medicci especially would love to watch you burn but he dares not light the match
He's got way to much to learn from you
Get his tax return from you
After all I did for you Bitch the nerve of you
I got some words for you
So untill I can say that I've heard from you
I'll play the fiddle with Nero and let it burn for you
Keep a hard curve for you.
So baby here's one last love letter
I hope that this one finally says it all
If you come back then I'll put the gun back
And I promise that we can have a ball
And Deer baby
Deer boobie
Let's go to Coney Island
Remember?
When we used to go
And Deer boobie
Boobida
I need ya
I don't wanna be baby
And you don't wanna be with out my love

Written by:
Christian Guglielmo

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find