It's the Midas palm That everyone wants It's unwaning love That's nearly gone It's the Turin Shroud For wiping up It's a brit abroad Deriding sun And bouyant hearts still drown And true love makes no sound Until the salts of a siren bring you round She won't exhibit much But it's in the room You boxed it in And called it gloom Slowly broke her down Blind, drunk cheating clown But then the jet stream of a siren brings you round It must've been love It must've been love I hid from you It must've been love It must've been love You're hiding too...