Love starts out
                          on the run.
Or so they they—
          They say
They're crazy.

Promise ring made of
                                      gold.
Or so she's told—
          She's told
She's crazy.


They said they'd
use your skin
for fun
'Cause since they said
Love starts out
                          on the run,
And ends on
Lust's warm highway
       (Runaway, runway—all the same, they say)
Or so they say—
          They say
I'm crazy.

Hazy, maybe, a little
                   fickle with the memories.
But they told me it was made of gold
    I swear, I swear.

They could not lie on love's runway, no—
My plane takes off in five
     I thrive,
     I strive,
     I derive,
from you: the root of
                                    a negative.