And the only thing you're sorting out is your imagination Shadows underneath the eyes My lack of proof is your disguise You won't remember me There's nothing really I can say But sorry mate and walk away I could be wrong unless you play your game This

As Arabella Just might have tapped into your mind and soul You can't be sure My days end best when this sunset gets itself Behind that little lady sitting on the passenger side It's much less picturesque without her catching the light The horizon tries

'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail I've seen your eyes as they fix on me What is he doing What on earth's the plan, has he got one You better give me

And they said it changes when the sun goes down Around here They said it changes when the sun goes down And what a scummy man Just give him half a chance I bet he'll rob you if he can So who's that girl there? I wonder what went wrong So that she had to

(Kick me out, kick me out) I don't want to hear you Get off the bandwagon and put down the handbook Fake Tales of San Francisco I don't want to hear, you know Echo through the room More point to a wedding disco Without a bride or groom There's a super

You push the button and we'll do the rest There are things that I just cannot explain to you And those that I hope I don't ever have to The exotic sound of data storage Nothing like it First thing in the morning Bastard latin That's the best thing for it

That's right, he won't let her out his sight The confidence is the balaclava And it's wrong, wrong, wrong And the daggers are drawn Running off over next doors garden Before the hour is done It's more a question of feeling Than it is a question of fun

Baby, I'm yours Baby, I'm yours (baby, I'm yours) And I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky, Yours until the rivers all run dry In other words, until I die And I'll be yours (yours) until the sun no longer shines, Yours (yours) until the poets

Crying lightning And twisted and deranged Your past-times, consisted of the strange And I hate that little game you had called Outside the cafe by the cracker factory You were practicing a magic trick And my thoughts got rude, as you talked and chewed On

We're not sure of the etiquette Anything we should know about your change? -- Oh and the cost to correct a fraud I'm going to go out and kid them If you're the highest bidder, I'm yours You figure out pathetic sets We think out pathetic sets And if you