| And sometimes I dream you’ve left me
|
| And I’m so lost I wake up high
|
| High on madness
|
| A sexual holding pattern
|
| Stuck in erotic self-oscillation
|
| This landmine of a heart
|
| The only one I’ve ever had
|
| I’ve ever had
|
| Conceptual romance is on my mind
|
| I call it abstract romanticism
|
| Conceptual romance is you
|
| It’s you and I
|
| It’s you and I
|
| This blood bitch’s tale
|
| It goes a bit like this:
|
| I lose myself in the rituals of bad art, in failure
|
| I want to give up but I can tell
|
| My heartbreak is too sentimental for you
|
| Conceptual romance is on my mind
|
| I call it abstract romanticism
|
| Conceptual romance is you
|
| It’s you and I
|
| It’s you and I
|
| So I lose my gaze to keep you
|
| Creating a curve for the eyes
|
| A rejected body
|
| And losing it is constant, but such a lonely place
|
| What can I say?
|
| I don’t know who I am, but
|
| I’m working on it
|
| I’m working on it
|
| I’m working on it
|
| I’m working on it
|
| I’m working on it
|
| I’m high, high on madness
|
| These are my combined failures
|
| I understand infatuation, rejection
|
| They can connect and become everything
|
| Everything that’s torn up in your life
|
| But come with me, I want to show you something
|
| The original wound, the origin of the world
|
| Of the world
|
| Of the world
|
| (I'm working on it)
|
| (I'm working on it)
|
| Of the world |