and everywhere I tried to love you

is yours again

and only yours

and Berlin is so ugly in the morning light

living in a glass house

don't talk politics and don't throw stones

like a bump on a bump on a log, baby

and no amount of talking is going to soften the fall

but like after the rain, step out of the overhang, that's all

...

and I do hate to fold right here at the top of my game

...

lord you know it's a shame, when I only want for you to pull over and hold me, 'til I can't remember my own name