I found out how to keep you keen, I read it in a
magazine.
One of those expensive ones, so it must be true, it
must be true.
Seems large amounts of alcohol is all it takes to make
you fall.
If I stroke your ego through the night, it'll be all
right, it'll be all right.
If this is desire, expect nothing new.
But if this is love, burn your black suit.
I worry now I'm close to you, for your face is grey,
your lips are blue.
And you spend your days in no man's land, make me take
my pleaseure where I can.
You trail behind me like a broken kite but it's far too
late to put things right.
And I find that looking back at you gives a better
view, a better view.
Call yourself a dark angel born to make it good.
A dark angel from the heavens to the dole queue.
If this is desire we're expecting nothing new.
But when this is finally love we can burn our black
suit.
I wish that I had brought you joy, it's hurting me to
see you cry,
But I don't feel enough for you to see it through, to
see it through.
If this is desire, expect nothing new,
But if this is love - burn your black suit.