Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love

Don't tell your secret to anyone 
Because ideas are vulnerable 
As soon as you say your idea out loud 
Then it can go and live on its own 
And you will miss it oh so much 
And you will wait for its return 
And you will wish it were your own 
But ideas that left [bad word] back home 

Don't tell your mother that you are afraid 
Don't tell your lover that your heart might break 
Don't tell your gods that you no longer believe 
Because as soon as you say it out loud they will leave you 
And you will miss them oh so bad 
And you will wait for their return 
And you will wish they were your own 
But gods that have left you will never grace your home 

Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love

Don't tell your secret to anyone 
Because ideas are vulnerable 
As soon as you say your ideas out loud 
Then they can go and live on their own without you 
And you will miss them oh so bad 
And you will wait for their return 
And you will wish they were your own 
But ideas that left will [bad word] back home