She brings me colours, white wine and roses

And then we paint our faces and pwder our noses

She gives me her halo and I hang it next to mine

Reads to me Mishima like a honeymoon valentine

She's an architect of pleasure and she fashions me a fountain

she leads me through the clouds to the peak of the highest mountain

We dare the heavens on a chariot that we borrow

Tonight she is my cradle, but

Who will love me tomorrow?



Cold turkey Cindy pulls the mirrors from the wall

Walks barefoot on the broken glass and stumbles in from the hall

she's shooting paper tigers with the needle that she's borrowed

Tonight she is my pillow, so

Who will love me tomorrow?



Must I sing so low to get so high?

I can't purge myself of demons and I don't know the reason why

My heart feels like a battlefield and all my soldiers lie slain

I'll never be clean, I'll never be pure again



She greets me like a siren and all her lights are flashing

She invites me to her dungeon with the promise of a lashing

And with a smile like a sunrise playing on her lips

She shows me her collections of butterflies, scars, and whips

With fingernails like claws she leaves keepsake souvenirs

Like trenches on my back she bathes in saccharine scented tears

I feel just like an actor in a play called "Dear Friend Sorrow"

Tonight she is my refuge, but

Who will love me tomorrow?