I was one step closer to love
today I only write poems about it
up in the attic, where the doves
confess to each other
I've tried to seek it everywhere
perhaps I can win it in cards
or it is maybe, by chance, in wine
just like verity
I confess to all of my sins
I fall asleep beaten and wounded, quite alone
I offer my torn out heart on my palm, I have nothing more
and yet you still don't know my name
It can't be bought in stores
in houses of love they offer you a fake,
fleeting love, some cash for a lie
why isn't love just like luck
so it can fall upon me once
it wears out, and hopefully you will believe me
that after that happens, I will give it all to you
I confess to all of my sins
I fall asleep beaten and wounded, quite alone
I offer my torn out heart on my palm, I have nothing more
and yet you still don't know my name