I don't wanna be a lover,
I just wanna be your victim.

So you take her to the pictures,
trying to become a fixture.
Inch by inch trying to reach her,
all the way through the second feature.
Worrying about your physical fitness,
tell me how you got this sickness?

But it's easier to say 'I love you',
than 'Yours, sincerely' I suppose.

She's no angel.
He's no saint.

No use wishing now for any other sin.

It's a breath you took too late.
It's a death that's worse than fate.