Take the broken heart and stitch it up with 
some tears, blush it up, dress it up and put it on ice, 
it keeps us cold.
Frozen your lips turn lullabies numb,
you're laughing melodies in time 
with heartbreak and rhyme.

Don't go blowing me a kiss, 
'cause you'll see it break down in all it’s elegance, 
like a model wearing the wrong make-up 
for her own fashion parade.
Biting your lip and I know, 
you are faking it, you are hating it.

Writing another lipstick letter, 
painting our script; you're the artist.
Red for the love, white for the lies, 
black the clichés, I'll see it in your eyes.
Brush in some red, sketch in some blue, 
picture perfect, me and you.
Don't forget the title; 
"Inventing Tragedy In Black And White"

Don't go blowing me a kiss, 
’cause you'll see it break down in all it's elegance, 
like a model wearing the wrong make-up 
for her own fashion parade.
Biting your lip, I know you’re faking it, 
letting it bleed, I know you're hating it.

Painting my tragedy, singing my tragedy,
but would you blow me a kiss?
At the bottom of your letters,
all of my love,
all of my hate,
all of my love.

There's no melody that fits with 
drop-dead gorgeous, your name doesn't fit 
with the chorus or a line from her song. 
But she's singing your tragedy, 
and her lipstick stains, me and you.