whoever believes that lovin' is free hasn't ever slept with me.
the birds and bees are our disease, contracted collectively.
and we're reborn in the morning with no or little warning, lover please
don't fall in love with me,
but if you think you might, it's alright, i wouldn't mind.
i heard this story from a couple friends of mine,
that you believe yourself, the very lies you tell
but don't i love it when you're spinning them, i start in grinning when
i see you look up to the left, tell me you want me like the oxygen in
every breath
say that i'm needed like the landlord on the 30th,
i don't believe you, but its still nice. your eyes tell mine...
such pretty lies. tell me your pretty lies (i can tell you mine, i can
tell you mine, i can tell you mine)