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