Oh, to be loved.
What a wish, what a craving.
Freeing, at times,
Yet, oddly, enslaving.

Tied to the wall
By a chain of events
And everyone wants
To give their two cents,

And little old me,
Is curled up in the corner.
I know I belong,
But I feel like a foreigner,

And all that I want
Is your safe, warm embrace,
And all that I get
Is a slap to the face.

This place -
Once a haven, a field where I roamed,
Has lost its spark,
It doesn't feel like a home.

There's cards on the table,
The gamblers place bets,
They set up the scene
As they spit empty threats.

And we run, run away,
As forth move the reapers,
Tired of being pursued,
Tired of being peacekeepers.

But finally,
Just down the street, 'round the bend,
We'll find a place where
Our wounds can all mend.

And you'll lie by my side,
Lips to lips, misbehaving.
Oh, to be loved,
What a wish, What a craving.