The smoke cloud billows out his mouth
Like a freight train through a small town
The jokes that he told across the bar
Were revolting and far too loudThey shake their heads, saying, "God help her" when I
Tell 'em he's my man
But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger
I can fix him, no really I can
And only I canThe dopamine races through his brain
On a six-lane Texas highway
His hand, so calloused from his pistol
Softly traces hearts on my face
And I could see it from a mile away
A perfect case for my certain skillset
He had a halo of the highest grade
He just hadn't met me yetThey shake their heads, saying, "God help her" when I
Tell 'em he's my man
But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger
I can fix him, no really I can
And only I canGood boy, that's right
Come close, I'll show you heaven
If you'll be an angel all night
Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man
No really I canThey shook their heads, saying, "God help her" when I
Told 'em he's my man (I told 'em he's my man)
But your good Lord didn't need to lift a finger
I can fix him, no really I can (No really I can)Whoa, maybe I can't
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📜 the tortured poets department lyrics
RandomAnd so I enter into evidence My tarnished coat of arms My muses acquired like bruises My talismans and charms The tick, tick, tick of love bombs My veins of pitch black ink All fair's in love and...