i know that love isn't all that we need, but yes she is a fine thing.
i'm not as handsome a lover as others, but somehow she finds me.
my heart is pulsing and bloody, and beats for nobody specifically.
your love is muddy and jaded, been played in fifty ways, deliver me...
This anticipation is edging on dangerous, this connection too close to an ocean of distance. Don't fall in love with me, I want to tell you. My love is a poison and the disease is what you'll do to me when you find out. And baby, this remitting-relapsing heartache is killing me. Love is still worth fighting for, but I have so many battle wounds, and enemies who realise too late their loss. Darling, we have but one day. Can anything really come of this? We've both been fighting for so long, perhaps this day can be Christmas between the trenches.
it could be white like the snow is, or dark like i know is a lover's heart
what's been made a fool of, but ain't it the fool that gets all of the
lover's parts?
it's gettting hard to remember the lies from december, you promised then
we needed lovin' so badly, we pretended that we had it when...
you told me those pretty lies (i can tell you mine, i can tell you
mine, i can tell you lines)
tell me your pretty lies (tell me what i want, what i really want)