|
It was love |
|
I suppose |
|
But I felt sometimes like a snail |
|
climbing a rose |
|
As I felt |
|
For your faults |
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Wet and warm and soft and sealed |
|
with calcified salts |
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And still sometimes when |
|
I think of us just being friends |
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It seems so wrong |
|
But if it didn't make you happy |
|
It didn't make you happy |
|
And every grubby little memory |
|
Makes it impossible for me |
|
To forget |
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How it was |
|
I was so in love but still |
|
I felt slightly lost |
|
As I crawled |
|
Slow and dumb |
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Picking over your petals |
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Pretending that I was still young |
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And I guess sometimes it's |
|
The tiniest simplest bits |
|
That I find so hard |
|
But if it didn't make me happy |
|
It didn't make me happy |
|
And every grubby little memory |
|
Makes it impossible for me |
|
To be... on my own |
|
Still every grubby little memory (Every grubby little memory) |
|
Makes it impossible for me (Every grubby...) |
|
Every grubby little memory (Every grubby...) |
|
Every grubby little memory |
