|
When I am relaxed |
|
I drop my drink |
|
My bleeding heart |
|
Has a gate of thorns |
|
When I turn on my sink |
|
The guy next door turns his off |
|
But my bleeding heart |
|
Will not go away |
|
Six hundred thousand miles |
|
Cannot squelch its flame |
|
I wear my bleeding heart |
|
Right underneath my sleeve |
|
Oh, roses, daggers, thorns |
|
And words that make a name |
|
I wear my bleeding heart |
|
It will not go away |
|
Will not go away |
|
Will not go away |
|
Oh, roses, daggers, thorns |
|
And words that make a name |
|
I wear my bleeding heart |
|
It will not go away |
|
Will not go away |
|
Will not go away |
|
Will not go away |
