Don't worry, Darlin'
I'm all outta soul;
no need for a mate.
Just bring your best every night,
and I'll pretend I'm human every morning,
die to your naughty texts every afternoon,
and be resurrected by your voice,
just in time to play cat-and-mouse before nightfall.
We will never get it right, unless this is it...
Otherwise we're wrong together, which isn't wrong at all.
Because who doesn't want to be us --
no sentiment,
no manners,
no bullshit,
cuz we know better now...
cuz before us, there was them,
and after us they'll be them again,
so let's seven over and over again
until eight appears to break what we repaired in each other.
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