Smother Love

The true romance is the ideal repression,
That you seek, that you dream of, that you look for in
the streets,
That you find in magazines, the cinema, the glossy
shops,
And the music spins you round and round looking for
the props.

The silken robe, the perfect little ring,
That gives you the illusion when it doesn't mean a
thing,
Step outside into the street and staring from the wall
Is perfection of the happiness that makes you feel so
small.
Romance, can you dance? D'you fit the right description?
Do you love me? Do you love me?
Do you want me for your own?
Say you love me, say you love me,
Say you know that I'm the one,
Tell me I'm your everything, let us build a home.
We can build a house for two, with little ones to follow.

Proof of our normality that justifies tomorrow.
Romance, romance.
Do you love me? Say you do,
We can leave the world behind and make it just for two.
Love don't make the world go round, it holds it right
in place,
Keeps us thinking love's too pure to see another face.
Love's another skin-trap, another social weapon,
Another way to make men slaves and women at their beckon.
Love's another sterile gift, another shit condition,
That keeps us seeing just the one and others not
existing.

Women is a holy myth, a gift of mans expression,
She's sweet, defenceless, golden-eyed, a gift of gods
repression.
If we didn't have these codes for love, of tokens and
positions,
We'd find ourselves as lovers still, not tokens of
possessions.
It's a natural, it's a romance, without the power and
greed,
We can fight to lift the cover if you want to sow a
seed.
Do you love me? Do you? Do you? Don't you see they aim to
smother
The actual possibilities of loving all the others?