| And I see the way you look
|
| When you think I’m not looking forward
|
| That I’m lying in a trap of scared assumption
|
| It’s a certain kind of sickness
|
| A wrong turn of conversation
|
| A kiss on the trembling hand of our love
|
| And you could barely drive when I said
|
| «I don’t fucking care anymore
|
| I don’t see the point of lying for
|
| What I am only tearing apart.»
|
| And you could barely speak
|
| When I saw your reflection in the windshield
|
| Fall in a space I know too well
|
| That I am not your comfort anymore
|
| God, won’t you please stay with me?
|
| Won’t you please live with me?
|
| I can’t survive without your touch
|
| Of gentle persuasion
|
| Of rested assurance
|
| Of finding a home and having it finally stay
|
| And I see the way you look
|
| When you think I’m not looking forward
|
| And you could barely drive when I said
|
| «I don’t fucking care anymore
|
| I don’t see the point of lying for
|
| What I am only tearing apart.»
|
| And you could barely speak
|
| When I saw your reflection in the windshield
|
| Fall in a space I know too well
|
| That I am not your comfort
|
| That I am not your comfort anymore
|
| Anymore |