She brings me colours, white wine and roses   And then we paint our faces and pwder our noses   She gives me her halo and I hang it next to mine   Reads to me Mishima like a honeymoon valentine   She's an architect of pleasure and she fashions me a fountain   she leads me through the clouds to the peak of the highest mountain   We dare the heavens on a chariot that we borrow   Tonight she is my cradle, but   Who will love me tomorrow?      Cold turkey Cindy pulls the mirrors from the wall   Walks barefoot on the broken glass and stumbles in from the hall   she's shooting paper tigers with the needle that she's borrowed   Tonight she is my pillow, so   Who will love me tomorrow?      Must I sing so low to get so high?   I can't purge myself of demons and I don't know the reason why   My heart feels like a battlefield and all my soldiers lie slain   I'll never be clean, I'll never be pure again      She greets me like a siren and all her lights are flashing   She invites me to her dungeon with the promise of a lashing   And with a smile like a sunrise playing on her lips   She shows me her collections of butterflies, scars, and whips   With fingernails like claws she leaves keepsake souvenirs   Like trenches on my back she bathes in saccharine scented tears   I feel just like an actor in a play called "Dear Friend Sorrow"   Tonight she is my refuge, but   Who will love me tomorrow?