It Isn't To Launder My Clothes

You're my liberator honey, Your love is white-painted gold I'm shallow, but you, you're already Keeping me; from getting cold Keeping me from drinking moonshine Honey, the world's got me misdiagnosed. If I invite an angel back home It won't be to do my dirty dishes Or launder my clothes because I can do my own It won't be for just any coexistence Honey, I'd rather live my life alone. In disgrace; with a smile on my sinful, face. Then share with you anything fictitious You're my liberator honey, With two hands to share and hold I want to feel and uncover every fold. I'm shallow, but you, you're already Keeping me; from getting miserably cold Oh, and your love is white-painted gold Every night I invite my angel back home It isn't to launder my clothes because I can do my own. And it isn't to coexist My liberating honey, Because I'd rather, not live my life alone. Drinking moonshine to keep out the cold Then to forget your loves white painted gold.