see, between us, we have one whole heart,
my dear and I have been ripped apart,
and our own hands bloodstained and leathery,
may have been our own demise,
but the guilt is shouldered by mister heart,
oh, mister heart.

see, between us, we cooked up a plan,
the kind of thing a sick man might think,
with the pocket pistol her aunt had bought her,
we could destroy our hearts,
mister and missus heart.

see, between us, shaky legs and midnight hands,
and the smell of roses later,