Everyday,
it slips away.
Life becomes a soft hum
with no reason.
You're my rose, love.
Stop making love,
going through the motions.
Tell me how come
no one gets what they really want
and love only when it's convenient?
We act like we know more than we know.
We treat love like it's something you own,
that you own.
Yesterday,
I thought I heard you say,
"Who do you think you're kidding?
We're all pissing into the wind,
wearing sheepskin,
hiding from the same things
that our dads did."
But no one gets what they really want.
We love only when it's convenient.
We act like we know more than we know.
We treat love like it's something you own.
But maybe I'll find you.
Maybe I'll find something I love.
Baby, I've found you.
Maybe I've found something I love.