I know that love is a song.
It's good then it's gone, and there's nothing wrong.
You live and you love and you lose,
and you can't refuse what happens to you.
Bricks, bats, canes, hats, a pen, a sword, a chain, an axe...
there's nothing you can use to cut up or cut away,
save it for another day, can't cut out that dark part of you.
And it's true: lovers get you high, then leave you dry.

All the lives that I've ever lived,
like spit in a sieve, there's more here to give.
Love is not the absence of pain,
sometimes they're the same; the sink is the drain.
Oh you were my favorite song,
but I got the words wrong, I sang it out of key.
I put you on a pedestal and then something happened to me.
I couldn't see.
That you wanted to be free.
Oh you.

And it's true: lovers get you high, then leave you dry.

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