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I changed the locks, but your key, |
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Your key's still working. |
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You can't train a moth, I guess. |
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Each beast gets her burden. |
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So we circle this old flame, too much at stake, |
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But too late to change. |
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My nerves are shot, my reserves exhausted, |
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It's a tired plot, but we bought it. |
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Now we're lost between love and cholera, |
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Saccharine reeds, such a sentimental novel, |
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Give you cavities if it doesn't drive you to the bottle. |
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As for me, I'll take another kerosene if you got something harder. |
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Like a moth, you see, and I still get chills when you talk to me. |
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But the years pass by now in twos and threes, |
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These thrills ain't as cheap as they used to be. |
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If you're asking, I can't say no. |
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Just one more chapter, of the book closed. |
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And I know it's madness to play these odds, |
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It's like giving matches to paper, to paper dolls. |
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Tried sleep-talk, tried dynamite, |
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But I sleepwalk back to the battle-site. |
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Fight fire with fire but the fire won't fight, |
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We just fly these circles like tired kites. |
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And you flash some fang, and I bat my lashes, |
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And we're back again, no end to this game with matches. |
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We've been lovers and strangers, and friends who get angry. |
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Made mistakes and amends, and brief moments of magic. |
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We forgive and forget and give in to attraction. |
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This whole thing depends on amnesia and madness. |
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And I'd be leaving for good, I'd be looking for better, |
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But I've got this broken habit I keep gluing back together. |
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The fever, the fire, the feathers, the fever defies measure, |
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And good sense won't venture where the moth won't let it. |
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If you're asking, I can't say no. |
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Just one more chapter, of the book closed. |
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And I know it's madness to play these odds, |
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It's like giving matches to paper, to paper dolls. |
