Peter Wolf Crier Saturday Night
Labored on your subject moans Damn I never once claimed all that you stole Poor in heart and rich in sin Desperate for your drink and stripped of my kin. When the summer rain was all she wrote The lord's pity tears don't fall no more So if you'd be so kind not to writhe I'll claim aU you owe. Your empty sight is all I hold Hands cupped from drought I approach your throne Cause my queen you mean that much to me I swear I'll be swift upon your throat. When the summer rain was all she wrote The lord's pity tears don't fall no more So if you'd be so kind not to writhe I'U claim aU that I'm owed I'll claim all that l owe I'll claim all that I'm owed.
