Glicine

That night you wanted it
Otherwise you weren't there
And if he wasn't me
Nothing would have changed
Don't call them excuses
There's something wrong with you
There's something wrong with you
I can understand your taste, taste
Don't take off your glasses
I can be your doctor, little pervert
You're a lamb in my hands
You hide your trouble with your tongue
And that's ok with me, it hurts you
To write your beloved books somebody has to live them
Somebody has to live them
I can understand your taste, taste
Don't take off your glasses
I can be your doctor, little pervert
You're a lamb in my hands
I'm neither the first not the last
(who cares, use me)
Don't analyze, don't disavow
(who cares, use me)