| The convent where I’ll cleanse myself
|
| Body willing sometimes
|
| Clothes get torn sometimes in paradise
|
| Now if there’s one thing I won’t regret
|
| I’m fairly sure it hasn’t happened yet
|
| Though I’m repenting it
|
| I don’t want to be your hobby
|
| I’ll tell you all the time
|
| Maybe I’ll sleep tonight
|
| And I don’t want to feel your breathing
|
| I’ll pretend you’re not alive
|
| Or maybe I’ll sleep tonight
|
| Don’t you speak your mind to me
|
| I can’t pretend to cease or to cease to be
|
| Though that’s much easier
|
| And I can trust my mind to chase
|
| Who I touch, or who I should refuse
|
| Nothing comes easier
|
| I don’t want to be your hobby
|
| I tell you all the time
|
| Maybe I’ll sleep tonight
|
| And I don’t want to feel your breathing
|
| I’ll pretend you’re not alive
|
| Or maybe I’ll sleep tonight
|
| This is a decision and I’m calling you
|
| Run from all the answers and your finer truth
|
| Ribcage torn and open, you can take my heart
|
| I am waiting for the fire to start
|
| This is a decision and I’m calling you
|
| Run from all the answers and your finer truth
|
| Ribcage torn and open, you can take my heart
|
| I am waiting for the fire to start
|
| This is a decision and I’m calling you
|
| Run from all the answers and your finer truth
|
| Ribcage torn and open, you can take my heart
|
| I am waiting for the fire to start
|
| I am waiting for the fire |