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Even though you want it |
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You really shouldn't think about it |
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Treason is a tar pit |
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It's so tacky to preserve alone |
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Can you live like a crow? |
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There's your answer. |
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As you pick at my bones with your friends and their barren tongues won't fill your lungs. (Love tends to dry in hands that don't try) |
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And you can find it in a heartbeat, and leave it tangled in the bed sheets |
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You burn your bridges in the backseat then show up widowed on the high street |
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Come on say you've done it |
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Though we don't have to talk about it |
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The stains left on the carpet |
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Scream loud enough for all to know |
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Do your legs fail the floor? |
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There's your answer |
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A mistake with a sword |
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Needs a ransom |
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But you've got no jazz to have the cash (Love tends to dry in hands that don't try) |
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And you can find it in a heartbeat, and leave it tangled in the bed sheets |
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You burn your bridges in the backseat then show up widowed on the high street |
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In a coat for assault, desperate and bleak. |
