no more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone

want me to love you in moderation, do i look moderate to you?

this will be my last confession, ‘i love you’ never felt like any blessing, whisper it like it’s a secret only to condemn the one who hears it

because i am done with my graceless heart, so tonight i’m gonna cut it out and then restart

tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks and the kindest of kisses breaks the hardest of hearts

but the loneliness never left me, i always took it with me, but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company

at seventeen i started to starve myself, i thought that love was a kind of emptiness, but at least i understood then the hunger i felt, and i didn’t have to call it loneliness 

the fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress

it’s an even sum, it’s a melody, it’s a battle cry, it’s a symphony 

but i know it’ll have to drown me, before i can breathe easy

to the crowd i was crying out, and in your place there were a thousand other faces

and it’s over and i’m going under, but i’m not giving up i’m just giving in

in a moment of joy and fury i threw myself from the balcony like my grandmother, so many years before me

and it’s peaceful in the deep, cathedral where you cannot breathe

i know i seem shaky, these hands aren’t fit for holding

i’m not beat up by this yet, you can’t tell me to regret, been in the dark since the day we met, fire help me to forget

it seems that i have been held in this dreaming state, a tourist in the waking world, never quite awake

shower your affection, let it rain on me, pull down this mountain, drag your cities to the sea

and i did cartwheels in your honor, dancing on tiptoes, my own secret ceremonials

a year like this passes so strangely, somewhere between sorrow and bliss

in the spring, i shed my skin and it blows away with the changing winds

i swallow the sound and it swallows me whole until there’s nothing left inside my soul

and i want you so badly, but you could be anyone 

I just wanted to be one of The Strokes, now look at the mess you made me make, hitch-hiking with a monogrammed suitcase miles away from any half-useful imaginary highway.