This is how we fuck up.... intimacy.   An illusion to a lapse.   A hiding space within fatigue   Where bitter-blue-lips sink ships   And smug against such sabotage   Traded are secrets   The consensus is you aren't mean   "Mean" the mean they mean   Your gossip is propagative   And more like betrayal   Secrets are forever, on the lips of liers   Secrets are forever, traded for confession   Secrets are eternal, on the lips of spies   Secrets are fragmented, traded for succesion   I know you can hear me, i know it totally   take yr fingers out of yr ears (repeated)   I love you so tell me (once, twice, once)   What yr new secret friend says is for yr ears only