Texty: Fight Like Lions. The Exchange Rate For Spending Nights.

Can you hear the hush? Let's not be alone We can feel the touch before we get home Somebody call the Surgeon General I need a warning on my forehead Because these thoughts are the cyanide in a cigarette I control them like a kid controls fire with gasoline in hell for telling lies The space between us is wide but not as wide as my smile Please make the first move before my clothes go back out of style Cut me off, just a little of the top I like my gin from the spades and my cocktails Molotov for you Am I onto you yet is this working? Then say so, or say you've had enough I'll be outside of your house, they say that I'm dreaming But I will call it love Somebody sound the signal I'm receiving eyes that say don't be alarmed Perhaps the traps I've set tripped her up in my open arms I can never really tell for sure if I am sitting next to the only cure for Guys like me are funny and cool but not as cool as I hope I am the chuckle they can't understand from this joke Lay me down and read a story that ends well So I'll be the knight and you'll be the damsel now A stifled laugh for a boy cut in half at the seems of his shirt that never fit quite right And I know if I had one right foot, I'd put it forward to dance the night away Until our heels wear down to the bone If we have to sing a duet I'll sing your praises And you'd sing the song If I heard you tell me that you loved me then I'd say I knew it all along