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So this is odd, |
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the painful realization that has all gone wrong. |
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And nobody cares at all, |
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and nobody cares at all. |
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So you buried all your lover's clothes |
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and burned the letters lover wrote, |
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but it doesn't make it any better. |
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Does it make it any better? |
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And the plaster dented from your fist |
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in the hall where you had your first kiss |
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reminds you that the memories will fade. |
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So this is strange, |
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our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance |
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where nobody leads at all, |
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where nobody leads at all. |
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And the picture frames are facing down |
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and the ringing from this empty sound |
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is deafening and keeping you from sleep. |
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And breathing is a foreign task |
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and thinking's just too much to ask |
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and you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights. |
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This is incredible. |
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Starving, insatiable, |
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yes, this is love for the first time. |
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Well you'd like to think that you were invincible. |
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Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time? |
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Well this is the last time. |
