The Carpal Tunnel of Love

We take the sips,
From life's lush lips.
And we shake shake shake the hips,
In relationships.
Stomp out this disaster town.
You'll put your eyes to the sun and say,
"I know, You're only blinding to keep back what the clouds are hiding."
And we might've said goodbyes just a little soon.
We're throwing stones at a glass moon.

Whoa, ah, oh, we're so miserable and stunning.
Whoa, ah, love songs for the genuinely cunning.

We keep the beat,
With your blistered feet.
And we bullet the words at the mockingbirds, singing,
"Slept through the weekend,
And dreaming,
Of sinking with the melody of the cliffs of eternity.
Got postcards from my former selves, saying, "How've you been?"
We might've said goodbyes just a little soon.
(Stomp out this disaster town.)
Woooah.
Robbing lips, kissing banks under this moon.

Whoa, ah, oh, we're so miserable and stunning.
Whoa, ah, love songs for the genuinely cunning.

Whoa, ah, oh, we're so miserable and stunning.
Whoa, ah, love songs for the genuinely cunning.

It was ice cream headaches and sweet avalanche,
When the pearls in our shells got up to dance.
You call me a bad tipper of the cradle,
But I'm just tired yawns for fawns on hunter's lawns.
We're the has-beens of husbands.
Sharpening the knives of young wives.
Take two years and call me when you're better.
Take tears of mine and find yourself wetter.

Whoa, ah, oh, we're so miserable and stunning.
Whoa, ah, love songs for the genuinely cunning.

Whoa, ah, oh, we're so miserable and stunning.
Whoa, ah, love songs for the genuinely cunning.

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