This kind of love

I don't believe in this kind of love

The kind that starts with a kiss

You are like a blue bottled fly

Buzzing around in a bottle of piss

I don't believe in organized religion

Nor the voice’s call from above

What if I did? I would fall into Oblivion

No, I don't believe in this kind of love

I don't have hours to waste in the bedroom

To spend on the desk or the ironing board

I don't have days to paste in your gloom

Or to paint white varnish over vampire hoards

I am a sick man of heaven

I am pirate of certain death

I have eleven tigers in the basement

And they are all raging holding their breath

I am a giant of Germanic literature

Fooling my guardian angel in step

She is a giant of cemetery censure

She will not allow me to see my own death

There are two fuses broken in the basement

One is the love of everything ordinary

The other is ordinance of every kind of love

And if you leave me I will fix the circuitry

But that still won't light up all of heaven above

I am a sick man full of pestilence and war

I hold in my hands the keys to the poor

I have locked them from riches and gold

I'm sorry they never told me the time to let go

I have a fire truck spitting its fire

I have a lake full of burning desire

I walk right through it, even on the water

Just to get a glimpse of Moses' daughter