| I changed the locks
|
| But your key, your key’s still working
|
| You can’t train a moth I guess
|
| Oh, each beast gets her burden
|
| So we circle this old flame
|
| Too much at stake
|
| But too late to change
|
| My nerves are shot
|
| My reserves exhausted
|
| It’s a tired plot, but we bought it
|
| Now we’re lost
|
| Between love and cholera
|
| Saccharine read — such a sentimental novel
|
| Give you cavities if it doesn’t drive you to the bottle
|
| As for me, I’ll take another kerosene
|
| If you’ve got it something harder
|
| Built like a moth you see
|
| And I still get chills when you talk to me
|
| But the years pass by now
|
| In twos and threes
|
| These thrills ain’t as cheap
|
| As they used to be
|
| If you’re asking, I can’t say no
|
| Just one more chapter
|
| Our book won’t close
|
| And I know it’s madness
|
| To play these odds
|
| It’s like giving matches to paper
|
| To paper dolls
|
| I know it’s madness, I know
|
| Tried sweet talk, tried dynamite
|
| But I sleepwalk, back to the battle site
|
| Fight fire with fire but the fire won’t fight
|
| We just fly these circles like tired kites
|
| You flash some fang
|
| And I bat my lashes
|
| And we’re back again
|
| No end to this game with matches
|
| We’ve been lovers and strangers and friends who get angry
|
| Made mistakes and amends and brief moments of magic
|
| We forgive and forget and give in to attraction
|
| This whole thing depends on amnesia and magnets
|
| I’d be leaving for good, I’d be looking for better
|
| But I got this broken habit I keep gluing back together
|
| The fervor the fire the feathers, this fever defies measure
|
| And good sense won’t venture, where the moth won’t let it
|
| If you’re asking, I can’t say no
|
| Just one more chapter
|
| Our book won’t close
|
| And I know it’s madness
|
| To play these odds
|
| It’s like giving matches to paper
|
| To paper dolls
|
| I know it’s madness, I know |