✕
Bag
I'd neither worship nor phone you nor play with your emotions
Neither waste my time nor rub my shoulders, I'll do my thing
I can't deal with you playing hard to get, I can't sin, I can't bad mouth you
This is love, it's ultrared, it's a museum of hurt, I can't move
My desires are painful, the sun rises slowly, I'm in a cage
It's a mere deck, feed me every now and then, I'm two notes and a lyric
I'm going to throw you in the bin, you're not worth the bag
I will light a cigarette, it's not worth the fire
Is love pitying the one who is leaving?
Is it carrying this burden?
To get on a nerve?
Ask, will it be better?
Will it* run through me?
And will the sun rise again?
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