cooking up our love, your chemistry
so sick, so sick of palendromes knowing me so well
you could sell it all but you'd be wrong
we'd be better off to bury it
so we never mix again
so surreptitious, lovely lonesome
my caller, call me. only folding my half with yours.
my eyesight's hazing over one, two, three, four
God damn it, get to work
(one, two, we do it over you)
take away the half that makes it real
all that's left is what you deserve
you could pawn it off but they won't buy
you'd be better off to bury it