, , ,
This is no great illusion
When I'm with you I'm looking for a ghost
Or invisible reasons
To fall out of love and run screaming from our home
, , ,
Because we live in a house of mirrors
We see our fears and everything
Our songs, faces, and second hand clothes
, ,
,
But more and more we're suffering
Not nobody, not a thousand beers
Will keep us from feeling so all alone
, , ,
But you are what you love
And not what loves you back
, ,
That's why I'm here on your doorstep
Pleading for you to take me back
, , ,
The phone is a fine invention
It allows me to talk endlessly to you
About nothing disguising my intentions
Which I'm afraid, my friend, are wildly untrue
, , ,
It's a sleight of hand, a white soul band
The heart attacks I'm convinced I have
Every morning upon waking
, , ,
To you I'm a symbol or a monument
Your rite of passage to fufillment
But I'm not yours for the taking
, , ,
But you are what you love
And not what loves you back
, ,
So I guess that's why you keep calling me back
, , ,
, , ,
I'm fraudulent, a thief at best
A coward who paints a bullshit canvas
Things that will never happen to me
, ,
But at arms length, it's Tim who said
I'm good at it, I've mastered it
Avoiding, avoiding everything
, , ,
But you are what you love, Tim
And not what loves you back
And I'm in love with illusions
So saw me in half
I'm in love with tricks
So pull another rabbit out of your hat