I found out how to keep you keen, I read it in a 
magazine. 
One of those expensive ones, so it must be true, it 
must be true. 
Seems large amounts of alcohol is all it takes to make 
you fall. 
If I stroke your ego through the night, it'll be all 
right, it'll be all right. 

If this is desire, expect nothing new. 
But if this is love, burn your black suit. 

I worry now I'm close to you, for your face is grey, 
your lips are blue. 
And you spend your days in no man's land, make me take 
my pleaseure where I can. 
You trail behind me like a broken kite but it's far too 
late to put things right. 
And I find that looking back at you gives a better 
view, a better view. 

Call yourself a dark angel born to make it good. 
A dark angel from the heavens to the dole queue. 
If this is desire we're expecting nothing new. 
But when this is finally love we can burn our black 
suit. 
I wish that I had brought you joy, it's hurting me to 
see you cry, 
But I don't feel enough for you to see it through, to 
see it through. 

If this is desire, expect nothing new, 
But if this is love - burn your black suit.