Jan 02, 2008 02:15
"Sweetness, sweetness never suits me,
when I get up to take you home,
maybe it's love, love at first slightly drunk
[...]
Sickness, weakness at the thought,
of how you're going to play,
how long should I stay?
Promises, promises never cease to assist it,
and now I'm back on my back,
please bite your words,
hurry, hurry to believe,
I can always trust as much as you deceive
[...]
What's your middle name?
How do you play the game?
I'll be the first to leave
When did I grow up?
I don't want to say too much,
I'll be the first to leave
[...]
I can see what's coming, but I'm not saying it."