The dark nigth streches out ahead and Iwish you'd never leave this bed, perhaps thats how it's meant to be: the art of kissing properly.
I think it's summer still outside, a few last beams of sunlight broke through the windows as if to see the art of kissing properly.
So look at us now, weather beaten and crushed by every storm.
We could go out tonight, but there's no place, they'll let us in.
Who knows, why do we have such fires in out hearts?
Who knows, we never seem much good when we're apart.
And you know.