…
This is not love
This is not even worth a point of view
In Echo Park I
pause for effect and whisper “Who are you?”
They crawl out of their holes for me
And I die: you die
Hear them laugh, watch them turn on me
And I die: you die
See my scars, they call me such things
Tear me, tear me, tear me
But I have your names
Screaming “You will suffer” and “You’re all too late”
Now I feel young
Does everything stop when the old dame fails?
They crawl out of their holes for me
And I die: you die
Hear them laugh, watch them turn on me
And I die: you die
See my scars, they call me such things
Tear me, tear me, tear me
But I’m still frightened by the telephone…
