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A Fever

de Owen

You fucked a fever in me and I'm burning up
A hundred and two, a hundred and three
Cold sweats, I'm in need of new sheets

You fucked this flu in me
I'm throwing up dinner for two and mixed drinks
I'm on my knees as it passes through me

I've been sick before, nothing like this
I swore if the room started spinning I'd leave

You fucked the sickness in me and I'm building up
White blood cells, immunity
So if by chance it happens again I won't be bedridden

I've been sick before, nothing like this
I swore if the room started spinning
I'd make my way back to the beginning and leave

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