Jesus Christ, where are we when we're writing off each other proudly? You could say something wrong, you would only fuck me up 'til dawn.
You call me upstairs, try to prepare, 'cause I know the hard enough this night can end as a bad one, and I know you're so rare.
You're dressed all in black, exposing your back, staring out from behind and 'neath the bangs that cover your eyes and only criticize, but in the most beautiful way.
So I wrote you a song about how we don't seem to get along. And I wait for the day when you tell me you had done just the same.
You call me upstairs, try to prepare, 'cause I know the hard enough, this night can end as a bad one, and I know you're so rare.
You're dressed all in black, exposing your back, staring out from behind and 'neath the bangs that cover your eyes and only criticize, but in the most beautiful way.
In the rush of the night, your debauchery had turned to the spot-light. And in the back of the cab, you look at me as if I understand.
You call me upstairs, try to prepare, 'cause I know the hard enough this night can end as a bad one, and I know you're so rare.
You're dressed all in black, exposing your back, staring out from behind and 'neath the bangs that cover your eyes and only criticize, but in the most beautiful way.
I went away. I went away. I went away. I went away. (Shut up.) I went away. (Shut up.) I went away. (Shut up.) I went away. (Shut up.) I went away. I went away.
You call me upstairs, try to prepare, 'cause I know the hard enough this night can end as a bad one, and I know you're so rare.
You're dressed all in black, exposing your back, staring out from behind and 'neath the bangs that cover your eyes and only criticize, but in the most beautiful way.