Our time... This is our time to waste away. When you came stepping in with Balloons and bent spoons and blue clouds. In this bedroom, The sharp corners of the world are smoothed And sanded by a cut so soft and a chilly touch. Let them say 'here be monsters.' Their antiquated assumptions. While outside newspapers pile high, there are damp towels on tiles And dirty dishes in the sink. (let them lay and come dance with me) Honey, show 'em your fangs. You live in syringes i huddle in bottles and that's why we get along. Claustrophobically entombed, We'll lay in this bedroom until we're brain dead and in love. As the years pass by, I'll decay by your side through fit and through foam. So come with me love, understood and above, and we'll make us a home.