Machiavelli’s Room Hamish Hawk

When I cradle him
Yes, when I cradle him in my arms
Curse the gathering storms
Burn their uniforms
If they do him harm

All my battle scars
Are healed by his charms
All my dead guitars
Sing where he strums
And in truth, I barely notice now
When he's naked from the waist down

Uh-huh

I fear I was close to love
I felt him fit me like a glove
No kidding
I showed him hidden things
He coaxed them from hiding
There's nothing he likes more
Than to watch me disappеaring inside him

Uh-huh

Days don't exist
In a bad bedroom likе this
When he shrieks like a siren
I (Admire him)
When he shrieks like a siren
I (Desire him)