Our problems started in Dallas, when the fire-breathing sheep destroyed the King Tut exhibit.
When I carved this, my thoughts were on you, love. Your life is like this snake's coils. No matter how many turns it makes, you'll end up back where you belong. With me.
I'm not the one who's so far awayWhen I feel the snake bite enter my veins. Never did I wanna be here again, And I don't remember why I came.
The crookedness of the serpent is still straight enough to slide through the snake hole.