My instruments of love have all been put away And you should always be cheery and not contrary as you were My instruments of love were useless anyway Your eyes they always look through me, you never knew me It's sad to say Look at all the silly things, take joy in all the little things Heaven sent or heaven bound, rows of angels all around My impetus for love has all but disappeared And I have a sneaky suspicion of the condition that we're in My impetus for love has dropped me in the end And I should always be weary of the conspiracy, my friend