Clove - Interlude II

Crisp charred black, we know
The ladies won't bite they're tongues
For balm head back to the grove
To gnaw on sweet apple cores

You don't take to fight like most
You try not to get too close
But the ladies won't bite they're tongues
And now you must breed on crumbs

Written by:
Isaiah Upshaw

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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