My wounds, my wounds, like craters in the moon
It feels so big and cavernous, but then feels like no room
The deep, the depth, I measure it in sex
Give away each climax for each secret that I've kept
Intrigue, intrigue, no oxygen to breathe
Intrigue is me so much, can't see the forest through the trees
I want, I want, the tenderness of touch
Sometimes it feels like paradise, and other times disgust
As if, as if, c'mon just act as if
Like willing it to happen by yourself and your magic
Where did it go, no water then you wilt
Look but cannot touch the pretty flowers in the field
The wounds, the wounds, that clash into our wants
Agitated hearts entangled is the ambiance
Our wounds, our wounds, they're the only truth
We're each other's salt as much as we're each other's soothe
Trouble and desire. Trouble and desire
Trouble and desire. Trouble and desire
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