| So this is odd,
|
| the painful realization that has all gone wrong.
|
| And nobody cares at all,
|
| and nobody cares at all.
|
| So you buried all your lover’s clothes
|
| and burned the letters lover wrote,
|
| but it doesn’t make it any better.
|
| Does it make it any better?
|
| And the plaster dented from your fist
|
| in the hall where you had your first kiss
|
| reminds you that the memories will fade.
|
| So this is strange,
|
| our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance
|
| where nobody leads at all,
|
| where nobody leads at all.
|
| And the picture frames are facing down
|
| and the ringing from this empty sound
|
| is deafening and keeping you from sleep.
|
| And breathing is a foreign task
|
| and thinking’s just too much to ask
|
| and you’re measuring your minutes by a clock that’s blinking eights.
|
| This is incredible.
|
| Starving, insatiable,
|
| yes, this is love for the first time.
|
| Well you’d like to think that you were invincible.
|
| Yeah, well weren’t we all once
|
| before we felt loss for the first time?
|
| Well this is the last time.
|
| This is the last time.
|
| This is the last time. |