Love is conscience, dressed in vain, playing the drafter
Once again, he's extended, he pretended he was free
Then he felt instead better scarred, he couldn't sleep or be spoony
While wrapped in sheets that bound so tightly, bread becomes commodity

How much do you have to sell to buy the life you dream?
Rest on one idea, or two love needles
Yeah, I thought it takes a lot of miles to walk the wind awake
And I've been traveling in endless rolls of sleep that I can't shake

I had this strange dream that you were drifting next to me
You stopped me on the highway, soon before you pulled my weight
Left my pension blown in, and even you consistently fell into the shadow
It's a dark, loveful tune that