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