You reached for my hand
It went downhill from there
You imagine me in a domestic setting
I imagine you as punctuation
All of the traits in your nature have become tragic
I don't want to deal every Sunday AM
With your arm clamping me to the bed
You're a sweet dull pain
Small 'c' conservative
I went ahead and slept with someone else on your birthday
You knew the truth but you daren't take me to task
All of the traits in your nature have become tragic
I don't want to deal every Sunday AM
With your arm clamping me to the bed
Such a dull pain reached for my hand
This is torture
This is torture
And you like it
You like torture
Our X and Y axes never met
We were only ever associates
You like torture
All of the traits in your nature have become tragic
I don't want to deal every Sunday AM
With your arm clamping me to the bed
Maybe someone else will be thrilled to be
Bored to death by you and you both can decay in love