Sick with loneliness, 
Sick with gravity, 
Your voice; a violin, 
Your tongue; a tambourine, 
You shake inside my mouth, 
And you ring against my doubt, 
You write a song that no one ever sang to me. 

It went ooh… 

Once you were sandy blonde, 
You were soft as silk to me, 
You were a headrest, a bed frame, a blanket, 
pillow against my cheek, 
But your love kept changing colors, 
Just like your hair… 
And soon I became sick, 
With the words you said to me, 

And they were ooh… 

Dissonance dissolves the relevance between you and me, 
You lied to get my love, and you lied when it was free, 
So now you’re a bare branch; a leaf that fell from my family tree, 
So keep lyin’ to get your love - but if you lie to me, 
I know the words and the chords and the rhythms, 
I know the melody. 

And it went ooh…