Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Yeah, yeah, happy holidays...
More from Picasso's blue period
I'm walking through streets that are dead
Walking, walking with you in my head
My feet are so tired, my brain is so wired
And the clouds are weeping
Did I hear someone tell a lie?
Did I hear someone's distant cry?
I spoke like a child; you destroyed me with a smile
While I was sleeping
I'm sick of love but I'm in the thick of it
This kind of love I'm so sick of it
I see, I see lovers in the meadow
I see, I see silhouettes in the window
I watch them 'til they're gone and they leave me hanging on
To a shadow
I'm sick of love; I hear the clock tick
This kind of love; I'm love sick
Sometimes the silence can be like the thunder
Sometimes I wanna take to the road and plunder
Could you ever be true?
I think of you
And I wonder
I'm sick of love; I wish I'd never met you
I'm sick of love; I'm trying to forget you
Just don't know what to do
I'd give anything to
Be with you