It's not like the movies,
There's no passion in your eyes
And the sheets are getting cold,
It's such a cliché,
Standing in the rain,
But pneumonia takes control,
It's like a fever,
Tensions running high
But I must bite down on my tongue,
You don't want it either,
So cut off all your ties
Let bridges burn beneath the Sun,
Tighten the noose,
Your hand is on the lever
With no chance of letting go,
Don't cut me loose,
I want to feel the free-fall
Get high from feeling low