So, it's how the story goes.
And we come to the scene where I'm holding you close.
She moves, moves like a thin dulling blade
Cuts, all the words that I said...
Real. Real like a plastic bouquet.
That thrives on the smoke from an old fireplace.
And dies every night with her face on the news.
Nobody cries, they just smoke and stare and their shoes.
the parts that touch me the most--depressing--wonderful.
So, it's how the story goes. And we come to the scene where I'm holding you close. She moves, moves like a thin dulling blade Cuts, all the words that I said...
Real. Real like a plastic bouquet. That thrives on the smoke from an old fireplace. And dies every night with her face on the news. Nobody cries, they just smoke and stare and their shoes.
the parts that touch me the most--depressing--wonderful.