I was 19, and dead from the neck up.
She was a Christian rock ingenue.
Sentimental as a cat's grave
Her fucking body broke my eyes
And she said, I'm gonna love the hell out of you.
Brandy wine rained on an android cross
Even the swans were bankrupt and blue
I'd been a liar my whole life
She said, I wanna be your wife
And she said, I'm gonna love the hell out of you.
In a lonely swedish bookstore, banging a librarian
The sound of rain and lightning was my cue
I fixed the Preakness in the rain
I had a weakness for cocaine
And she said
I learned double entry bookkeeping when I was 12 years old
I learned there's no imagination in the blues
They registered my name with the Catholic hall of fame
And she said, I'm gonna love the hell out of you.