Turkish (The Spirit Song)

It tastes foul, made in Turkey
I look again, it's made in Turkey
Makes me feel warm, you know?
Cos its so cold
So so cold
Makes me feel old, you know?
I feel old
So so old
It might be alive, I can't tell
It's after my soul, I can tell
I've taken it, now its taking me
It wants me babe
Me, babe
Not you, babe
Me
And I just don't care
I don't fucking care
It goes down like broken glass
Cutting me up like broken glass
But I don't care anymore
You can have me, you cunt
I'll finish you
Then thats it
You're gone
I'm drunk, you say?
You're ugly
Tomorrow I shall be sober!
Yeah
Yeah.....
Gimmie more, you cunt
You can't have it
It's mine
I've got it all
It wants me, not you babe
It's not like torture
It feels good
I don't wanna fucking stop
But it's empty!
ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Broken glass...
My hands, my hands
But I got you, Turkish.