Love, there are flowers hanging in the vine, So high, you cannot see. Now my mind must go on holiday, Torn from its hook, a broken valentine.
I see the smoke from a revolver. Will I get hit? I hardly care. When I'm bombed I stretch like bubblegum And look too long straight at the morning sun.
Love, there are flowers along the avenue, All things perfectly in place. I build a shrine, I set a monument, Because you're fire, because you're a fire escape .