With kerosene I think I'm gonna torture her tonightnand all the words that she wrote down were written off and torn out of my spinenjust to spite what we once werencrease the pages close the curtainsnput your hands all over menyeah write those ugly words or pack your bags and run awaynyou were always good for thatnWith memories I think I'm gonna torture her tonightnall the words that she wrote down with cut her up send shivers down her spinenIf you fly away across the sea fill me out a postcard therenbut don't send it roaming back to menthere's a better place for words to bendig a hole a keep them therenthe place where you can bury me