| Give me back my pictures of me
|
| Me, you, and him that makes three
|
| It figures the wheezing will measure your rate of depression
|
| And I hope that you know
|
| Like a bitch in heat, I hope she knows
|
| So put another penny in and turn the crank
|
| Until the frames cease to move
|
| And the movie turns into a photo
|
| A photo the size of a kiss, I hope she knows
|
| Staring at this Parisian sex flick
|
| Where the characters don’t meet, the characters don’t speak
|
| And the characters are like mirrors facing mirrors:
|
| Space always expanding
|
| So put another coin in and turn the crank
|
| Until the frames cease to move
|
| And the movie turns into a photo
|
| A photo the size of my fist, I hope she knows
|
| A hiccup in paradise
|
| I keep you jealously to myself
|
| In photos the size of a kiss
|
| A kiss in the shape of a bullet
|
| On phone lines and letterhead
|
| I’m dying about, I’m dying about
|
| On phone lines and letterhead
|
| I’m dying about, I’m dying about
|
| I’ve watched you whore yourself for one more thing
|
| Why don’t you sell yourself for one more?
|
| There’s always one more thing, why don’t you sell yourself?
|
| If I can’t have you, no one will
|
| Pushing a lover to love another
|
| Are you turned on?
|
| Are you turned on?
|
| Pushing a lover to love another
|
| Are you turned on?
|
| Are you turned on?
|
| A hiccup in paradise
|
| I keep you jealously to myself
|
| In a photo the size of a kiss
|
| A kiss in the shape of a bullet
|
| On phone lines and letterhead
|
| I’m dying about, I’m dying about
|
| On phone lines and letterhead
|
| I’m dying about, I’m dying about
|
| A hiccup in paradise
|
| I keep you jealously to myself
|
| In a photo the size of a kiss
|
| A kiss in the shape of a bullet
|
| I keep you jealously to myself
|
| I keep you jealously to myself
|
| I keep you jealously to myself
|
| I keep you jealously to myself
|
| A kiss in the shape of a bullet |