|
Frank's fine, a trust fund kid |
|
He's got everything he needs |
|
He kills time at the cineplex |
|
Sneaking into bad movies |
|
And every film he sees leaves him more jaded |
|
Just think of all the celluloid they've wasted |
|
Still he takes a seat at the next screening |
|
Hoping to flip that magic switch he felt as a kid |
|
Each and every trailer suggests |
|
A promise of something pure |
|
Something sacred, something sacred |
|
Lilybird, she flutters around |
|
In and out of every pub |
|
She's not looking for love, she says |
|
That's just a word some poet made up |
|
And any time she hops in bed, she fakes it |
|
She used to love, but it left her feeling naked |
|
Still she's at the bars after last call |
|
Thinking tonight could be the one where she'll be taken |
|
Because her heart still aches for something great |
|
Though she's not sure what that is |
|
Something sacred, something sacred |
|
And I know just what they want |
|
And how bad they want it |
|
I'm taunted by those same demons |
|
Though I can't put my finger on it |
|
You and me, we'd do anything for |
|
Something sacred |
|
Yeah, you and me could make anything |
|
Seem like something sacred |
|
So I won't extend my disbelief for |
|
Something sacred |
|
I haunt these city streets searching for |
|
Something sacred, something sacred |
