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I'm closing in, I'm feeling fine |
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You've lit the candles, poured the wine |
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I've dreamed up great scenarios, won't come down |
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With my face pressed up to the glass |
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Your house inviting; night time; jass |
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And I arrive in this masterpiece, this pumpkin |
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But despite this romantic range of violins |
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Detoxication tends to be unkind |
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And if these laws of love do not appeal to you |
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I'll try and convince myself these rules are just applied |
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And this is love I can't defend |
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This is primitive love, the dangerous kind |
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And this is love that will bring me to my knees |
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This is the love that I have for you |
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My birthday comes, I am reduced |
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Your moods leave me a bit confused |
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I'm rearranging all my expectations |
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How you define consistency, well it's clearly not up to me |
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To breake into your rhythm or its absence |
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But despite this romantic rang of violins |
|
Detoxication tends to be unkind |
|
And if these laws of love do not appeal to you |
|
I'll try and convince myself these rules are just applied |
|
And this is love I can't defend |
|
This is primitive love, the dangerous kind |
|
And this is love that will bring me to my knees |
|
This is the love that I have for you |
|
And this is love I can't defend |
|
This is primitive love, the dangerous kind |
|
And this is love that will bring me to my knees |
|
This is the love that I have for you |
