This can't be right.
There's something inside that binds me.
Spending my nights thinking of ways...
You'll find me closer to the sun...
And I will swallow my pride, forget all the lies from lovers.
I know it's been said, the skirts on the bed, hearts flutter...
Thoughts of suicide or flowers?
It's known.
Or lips at a drop of a dime... and the end...
And the end is not worthy of fairytale rhymes, peace of mind,
don't be worried.
It's sad, that I had such foolish remorse
for suspicion of lacking,
for locking of doors.
Like the coat hanger swinging by means of your clothes being torn...
Being torn.
Like I've said, it's kind of sad, you won't hold on...
A lover's bed, now dormant and deprived of meaning.
You can sneak, while the city sleeps.
Tie an anchor to my head.
You can moan, if it builds a throne for a heart that's lined in lead.
Give it to me, give me more than...
give me more than you know...
Give it to me, let me see you turn it to gold.
Turn it to gold.