I suppose love lives in a dustbin behind the garden wall
You have to grovel on the ground and be pretty disgusting
to find it at all
And I suppose that it grows on you
Standing there with no clothes on,
and I suppose because there's beautiful girls in this town
I'll stay here till I've chosen one.
I suppose life's like a hunt, really: the hounds have fun
until the fox gets bagged
And not one girl in this town will ever fall in love with me:
They'll get dragged.
Her heart speaks to me; says the room the room the room
beneath her dress, and I suppose that it beats for me
Like a hammering moon pulling tides through her chest
Suppose she says that she owes me
all that she owns and all that she is
It seems to me I suppose that her heart's not enough
and her love is a swizz.
So suppose love lives in a mansion
how the hell do I get over the wall?
And if my rope's not stretched the right tension
I won't cross this grand canyon at all.
And I suppose that it grows like a tumor, spreads like a rumor
like the grass grows and inch every day
And I suppose that before I even know it, the tide will start flowing
and the drum beneath my jacket will say:
You know you need her everyday
She is the moon and she showed me her face
She is the house and she opened the gates
You have to grovel on the ground and be pretty disgusting
to find it at all
And I suppose that it grows on you
Standing there with no clothes on,
and I suppose because there's beautiful girls in this town
I'll stay here till I've chosen one.
I suppose life's like a hunt, really: the hounds have fun
until the fox gets bagged
And not one girl in this town will ever fall in love with me:
They'll get dragged.
Her heart speaks to me; says the room the room the room
beneath her dress, and I suppose that it beats for me
Like a hammering moon pulling tides through her chest
Suppose she says that she owes me
all that she owns and all that she is
It seems to me I suppose that her heart's not enough
and her love is a swizz.
So suppose love lives in a mansion
how the hell do I get over the wall?
And if my rope's not stretched the right tension
I won't cross this grand canyon at all.
And I suppose that it grows like a tumor, spreads like a rumor
like the grass grows and inch every day
And I suppose that before I even know it, the tide will start flowing
and the drum beneath my jacket will say:
You know you need her everyday
She is the moon and she showed me her face
She is the house and she opened the gates