I don't like to be in love.
It's a waste of hopeful hearts an wishful thoughts.
I don't like ... I don't like it.
It's misuse of energy,
could have used properly,
I don't need to be in love.
I don't need to act like one who's taking drugs.
I don't need ... I don't need it.
It's a waste of energy,
could have used it properly,
solved the world economy instead...
There are no chirping birds above my head,
there are no rose petals on my bed,
there are no butterflies in cresent moon parades.
There's just this pain,
no rainbow, only rain.
I don't dig to be in love,
alle the vulnerability and clumsy talk,
I don't dig ... I don't dig it.
It's a repetition-web of all the love we didn't get,
go to a psychiatrist instead.
There are no...
If this is what the poets write about:
I don't need it.
If this is what they claim we can't live without:
I'd rather drop dead.
Give me back the clarity.
Daily life monotony,
or a love lobotomy instead...