| Yeah, but nobody searches
|
| Nobody cares somehow
|
| When the loving that you’ve wasted
|
| Comes raining from a hapless cloud
|
| And I might stop and look upon your face
|
| Disappear in the sweet, sweet gaze
|
| See the living that surrounds me
|
| Dissipate in a violet place
|
| Can’t you see what you’ve done to my heart
|
| And soul?
|
| This is a wasteland now
|
| We spies
|
| We slow hands
|
| Put the weights around yourself
|
| We spies
|
| Oh yeah, we slow hands
|
| You put the weights all around yourself
|
| Now
|
| I submit, my incentive is romance
|
| I watched the pole dance of the stars
|
| We rejoice because the hurting is so painless
|
| From the distance of passing cars
|
| But I am married to your charms and grace
|
| I just go crazy like the good old days
|
| You make me want to pick up a guitar
|
| And celebrate the myriad ways that I love you
|
| Can’t you see what you’ve done to my heart
|
| And soul?
|
| This is a wasteland now
|
| We spies
|
| Yeah, we slow hands
|
| Put the weights around yourself
|
| We spies
|
| Oh, yeah, we slow hands
|
| Killer for hire, you know not yourself
|
| We spies
|
| We slow hands |
| You put the weights all around yourself
|
| We spies
|
| Oh, yeah, we slow hands
|
| We retire like nobody else
|
| We spies
|
| Intimate slow hands
|
| Killer for hire, you know not yourself
|
| We spies
|
| Intimate slow hands
|
| You let the face slap around herself |