Grand love, grand a lot of things.
There’s always something more wise than my words.
Stranger, hope I’m not bothering.
My love is something the rest of my world.
No overdose on apathy.
No empty sound, no empty seat.
With all those jewels and all those crowns.
Why don’t the queen go feed the hungry?
No stylish cunts no wasteful hum.
No uptown strain, no tasteful pain.
No eyes for sale, no bottled love.
That makes me cry grand affection.
Cry grand affection, cry grand affection.
I was raised by two opposites,
Must be why I am at war with the obvious.
You’re taking me to paradise and letting me stay.
If I whistle in the wind it’s heard, it may never go away.
No overdose on apathy.
No empty sound, no empty seat.
With all those jewels and all those crowns.
Why don’t the queen go feed the hungry?
No stylish guns no wasteful hum.
No uptown strain, no tasteful pain.
No eyes for sale, no bottled love.
That makes me cry grand affection.
Cry grand affection, cry grand affection.
(If I whistle in the wind it’s heard.)
It’s taking me to paradise and letting me stay.
If I whistle in the wind it’s heard, it may never go away.