I want to know every inch of your soul
Before I know anymore
Do you still have your soul?
Or did you smoke it out (oh no)
Like a beekeeper does with his little ones?
Yours is black, covered with tar
Mix it with mine 'cause mine's not dark enough
Let's kill our habits and be moderate
I'll wait for your sweetness
Like a beekeeper waits for his little ones
He always waits for them to return
Will your soul return and blend with mine?
