Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You

Fuck Me Eyes

Virgin

If She Could See Me Now

Tempest

My fault, my sin, my one-eyed man
My honor, and my evil plan.
If the bugs can't be shaken.
I'll be the one mistaken,
and I know you wanted me to hold
but you're the hatchet in my skull
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Scrapped song don't steal, and also don't blow up I don't wanna get in trouble :(

Exterminator (Instrumental)

An overall acoustic-ish rendition of my song Nuevo Leon. 





Lyrics: 

I had much love to give you, before I had the will to speak.
I'd whisper from the wood, buckled down to your feet.
You said "madness" was my father's name.
When leather curled, you'd take the sting.
It's just submission, but I can't forgive it unless you were left to reap,

and what softens would encage you.
Would that relieve you? 
When it burns through the men they sought out before you
and the birds cry out through the coat of her nail at midnight.
Was it all just taming the wing you know had to love you?

Would I take these teeth? Beaten out of me, blood in felony.
Would I take these teeth? your infidelity? What was a sanctuary.

The young were verbal, and for the days end I would reach.
The vitriol sheathed by the perfume on your sleeves.
You were consumed by the news, and so the same it meant for me.
Your father's lie etched the fear bred upon your creed,

and what softens would encage you.
Would that relieve you? 
When it burns through the men they sought out before you
and the birds cry out through the coat of her nail at midnight.
Was it all just taming the wing you know had to love you?

and what softens would encage you.
Would that relieve you? 
When it burns through the men the blame marked before you
and the birds cry out through the coat of her nail at midnight.
Was it all just taming the wing you know had to love you?

Would I take these teeth? Beaten out of me, blood in felony.
Would I take these teeth? your infidelity? What was a sanctuary.
Would I take belief? Carved into the meat, what's left of memory.
Would I take your breath, or at least what's left. To last a century.

Echolocation

Richard Moon

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