Come Over, Do Me Wrong

Original

I try like any good man to distinguish my boredom from pain.

Oh, happy day, reasons for living.

I have accepted the joke as it came.

And half of any good thing is its proximity to its end.

You laugh as if it's nothing but the voice in the void and the silence is sending you sideways, sweet love.

The night so long.

Dead face, cold glove.

Come over, do me wrong.

So here it is,

Merry Christmas. What I wanted, each cheap desire.

A world of skin, a sluggish river.

Sad gift wrapped in chicken wire.

And half of any good thing is the reason it cannot be yours.

These laws are tugging gently on the low-hanging fruit so violently tempting you sideways, sweet love.

The night so long.

Dead face, cold glove.

Come over, do me wrong.

Wrapped and ready, baby. Wrapped and ready, baby.

Ready now to be sending you sideways, sweet love.

The night so long.

Dead face, cold glove.

Come over, do me wrong.

And if I could tell you, I would, just how bad it feels when you're crawling through the neighborhood.

Break me on your wheel.

And I was lying in a burning wreck, waiting to be born.

See the ash rise off my neck early in the morn.