?? 資源分類：音樂
?? 更新日期：2026-01-07
?? 存儲平臺：夸克網(wǎng)盤
?? 歌詞
All the things she said, spinning in my red-hot head,
whispered through the static of the Moscow snow—
“kiss me in the wreckage, kiss me till we’re dead.”
Her nicotine tongue, my strawberry ammo,
we’re crashing every chapel in our combat boots,
screaming Hail-Mary’s in fake leather suits.
They say it’s sickness, we call it scripture,
bleeding neon psalms on the state-run screen;
two girl-shaped holes in the machine.
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