So this is odd.
The painful realization that all has gone wrong,
And nobody cares at all.
And nobody cares at all.

So you buried all your lover's clothes,
And burned the letters lover wrote,
But it doesn't make it any better.
Does it make it any better?
And the plaster dented from your fist,
In the hall where you had your first kiss,
Reminds you that the memories will fade.

So this is strange.
Our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance,
Where nobody leads at all.
Where nobody leads at all.

And the picture frames are facing down.
And the ringing from this empty sound,
Is deafening and keeping you from sleep.
And breathing is a foreign task,
And thinking's just to much to ask,
And you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights.

This is incredible.
Starving, insatiable.
Yes, this is love for the first time.
Well, you'd like to think that you were invincible.
Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt lost for the first time?
Well, this is the last time.
This is the last time.
This is the last time.