Lovers will get drunk and flutter. Then run dry, and scavenge. Falling to the cold but i won't be one. It seems to me that sweet sincerity, she's just a myth these days. Here's your anniversary. Ten years down the drain. Pull the curtains. The plot's been given away. The artful chase and eloquent dance, just a futile sway between the eyes, the lips and the soft breath. It's a bullshit give and take, for what you will. And then it becomes a reluctant mistake. Here's your anniversary. Ten years down the drain. And everyone knows everything about being alone, but i still don't.