Chestnut Street
Here's to the sour notes, the one's that didn't take hold.
A useless attempt to connect, a tuneless love song.
Blinded by faith, fooled by lust, too wild to love, too jagged to touch, serenading in the dark to no one.
Here's to the longing days, the panic on parade. The first, the last, the in-between: It's all just a bad dream.
But then there's nothing as sweet as the touching of teeth, the shedding of clean clothes on warm sheets.
Blinded by faith, fooled by lust, too wild to love, too jagged to touch, serenading in the dark to no one.
Swindled by love, deceived by trust, too painful to feel, too young to corrupt.
Serenading in the dark to no one with only the sound to hold, but then the silence catches up.