On the walk home in your dead of the night
Decorations, while you're watching my eyes fall on collarbone
Nape of neck, swaying hips, wrinkled dress
I know I'm not the most beautiful in the whole wide world
But maybe on this block in the off-season
Seem to turn an eye
Used to feel so good pressing on my pride

Why do I still have to feel things in between the cheap delights?
In Heaven all the first kisses last much longer than a night

On the drive home, I pick meaningless fights
Plеase provoke me, I want somе kind of rise
I but you know not to trust a fright that appears on a Sunday night

Why do I still have to feel things in between the cheap delights?
In Heaven all the vacations last longer than a few nights
You can hold the stars until they burn right through your hands
You can outrun the whole week but Sunday catches up again