Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Paper Hearts, artist - WHY?.
Date of issue: 04.10.2012
Song language: English
Paper Hearts |
To be born as anything but this |
The dying wish of a dinosaur’s dish |
Of no use, a shitty gift like a single slipper |
I go diffuse in city quick like the little dipper |
She’s cute with little titties and a sense of humor |
But to tell you the truth, sir |
I pity the poor fool, her |
Fruitless in a holster and clueless in a kiss |
I’m older than death |
Vulgar with unfresh breath |
During sex I might put us in some joke positions |
But it’s scary always how we end up in mission |
Like the daring men who fight to submission |
Barely conscious there to care about the split decision |
Your sour thoughts you wield at me |
You wring out your melon |
But it yields only drops like an unripe lemon |
All a man can understand is your bad intentions |
The less you talk the more you draw and seal an ending |
Keep leafing through the glossary |
Sitting there puffing weed |
Telling me repeatedly all the things you want to be |
The thug’s just a boy once my money in the bags |
Is your love but a ploy like Bugs Bunny in drag? |
I leave my lungs open, exposed to the whole crew |
While you sneak a bump and smoke cloves in the coat room |
Itching like a local ho |
Wishing like Pinocchio |
The wind is at my back anew |
But still I feel the lack of you |
Oh, you were so heavy in my heart, boo |
That soon no longer could my true heart hold you |
And like the angular Etruscan tchotchke my mom got me |
At the Met gift shop in '92 |
Tearing from the brown paper bag I kept it in when it was new |
After I left it overnight when it was wet with dew |
It sounds blue and shitty |
But of course kid, like the little skinny bronze horse did |
You fell through |
You were like a buoy I put down in open ocean |
But with no cross staff and no compass in my possession |
And too far out for a lighthouse to provide discretion |
How could I presume that you’d divine direction |
Must have patience |
Accept no imitations |
Take no paper hearts and fucking hate carnations |
Though my home is vacant |
Yeah I’m lonesome while I wait |
That’s no open invitation made to hope we make acquaintance |
The long walks home from the laundromat |
In Pop-Pop's Holden Caulfield hat |
Alone, lost for certain |
Dry and pent |
Dead bent like a merchant ivory gent |
Yes, to yet get a spouse and kids |
Have a house full |
But I’m hard to be around |
And sterile as a roused mule |
Preemptive nostalgia of the possible but doubtful |
Preemptive nostalgia of the possible but doubtful |
And always something reminds me of you |