|
We're out on a limb. |
|
Should we let the newboys in? |
|
We think they can't do no harm. |
|
Let's humour them. |
|
But they need some passion inside. |
|
They take it like a cigarette. |
|
They feel it when it breaks their minds. |
|
In their lungs and in their chests. |
|
No regrets. |
|
They didn't tell me. |
|
They'd been there for so many years. |
|
I don't know what to do. |
|
I think I love you, you love me too? |
|
Is it really true. |
|
You can't want me. |
|
You can't need me. |
|
You can't love me, see. |
|
You can't want me. |
|
You can't need me. |
|
You can't have me, see. |
|
Well, I feel like |
|
I'm at sea. |
|
The plank's beneath my feet. |
|
Inevitably we two must meet again. |
|
But they're going to extremes. |
|
They're feeling quite at ease. |
|
They fight with brain instead of power. |
|
And no-one wins. |
|
There's no answers. |
|
Now newboys quarrel, they're bitching, they tangle. |
|
A tendency to intellectualise, they won't let things be. |
|
Your conversation locks my door. |
|
Then throws away the key. |
|
You can't help me. |
