Dead - San Fermin

Little blonde ghost won’t let it go

Get your ribbons off my bed

Ten red roses, oh no—

I’d rather be dead

I’d rather be dead

Am I reckless and wicked

Have I fooled you enough

Sticky sweet on the outside

And in for myself

I can charm with my eyes and

Curse the company i keep

Only blankness in my dreams

When I go to sleep

Little blonde ghost won’t let it go

Get your ribbons off my bed

Ten red roses, oh no—

I’d rather be dead

I’d rather be dead

You are mine and mine alone—

I am running a fever

I am spoiling the nest

Sick and sweet and spreading quickly

Oh— I’d rather be dead

I’d rather be dead