We sat under London skies on
A perfect June day.
With your mauve
Pillow.
And your laddered tights
With your
Take a look at us
Hate where there was lust
I buy clothes you never wear
I try to kiss
We light the oil
And touch the beads.
The naked
The killer inside stares back from the mirror
Lust in
Nothing ever goes right, nothing really flows in my life
No
Wipe the winter from your pillow
Take the cups from the
There's anger in their skin
It's just a style for
Didn’t I try
To love her?
Didn’t I paint
Pictures
You flick your mane and click your fingers again And
My love she hides a cruel disease It's the bullet
Strangers just the other day Walked right up and asked
And when your clothes are on the groundand your hair
Baby thought she really needed that sofaBaby thought she really
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