Baby, you really think yourself a poet?
The ladies say you got a way with words
Say you’re a writer, a wordsmith, composer, a prophet on the page but a poser on the stage
Great pretender of the age, don’t I know it; and I know you very well
Your kind are all the same. Fickle words to fickle flame
Flick of the tongue–silver moonlight’s a fire in your eye
Talk up a storm, sing my heart, eat the sun, and drink the dark
Hold me in your twisted arms and tell me, tеll me, tell me…
Tall talе-teller, tell me how much do you love me?
And what you write in your letters to your other honeys?
I may not be a reader and I might not be a writer
But I ain’t no fool falling for your love letters
Baby, I think you got it twisted
Cause I’m a lady and you’re a dirty little game
Whisper words of wisdom with women in bed
Sweet nothings run rings round my head
Try and talk my ear off, but all the while
I can see right through your subtitles
Your kind are all the same. Fickle words to fickle flame
Flick your tongue, talk back and forth
Talk up a storm, sing my heart, eat the sun, and drink the dark
Tall tale-teller, don’t dare tell me you love me
I know what your letters say to all your honey’s
I may not be a reader. I might not be a writer
But I ain’t no fool falling for your love letters
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases
KXRa – Déjà Vu
KXRA – ORBIT
KXRA Lyrics – Love Letters