DESCRIPTION:
My last song from 32 Rue de la Clef, Paris. The rambling introduction will say the rest. Here are the words:

I found a finger in the bathroom
And a thumb out the back,
They were severed at the knuckle,
They were caked with blood and coloured
Black and blue,
Dont want to share a flat with you.
There was a tongue in the cupboard
And a kneecap in the bath,
You must be some kind of (freaky) psychopath,
Its true,
Dont want to share a flat with you.

Can you put your hand on your heart
And say you wont garrotte me in my bed?
Or can you promise me the same thing
With someone elses hand instead?

Creepy SMSs disturb me from my sleep,
I try to ignore them but they just keep
Coming through,
Dont wanna share a flat with you.
Eyeballs in the mailbox, bisected at the optic
Nerve, No I wont stay for dinner,
You degenerate perve,
Youll serve my balls up for hors doeuvre.

Can you put your hand on your heart
And say you wont garotte me in my bed?
Or can you promise me the same thing
With someone elses heart instead?

Don't want to share a flat with you.