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Telegraph Avenue Kiss
by Thursday

She's the song that you tried to sing,
And the note that you couldn't hit.
So you locked her up in a music box,
And turned the key on all of us.

She spins silver strings in the dark,
With metal teeth that ring in her heart.
When the cover drops, the world just fades away from her waiting for her to say it:

K-I-S-S I'm in distress,
I need someone to spell it out
You know our love's not unconditional.

A book of matches and a cigarette,
A love note that you never sent,
You can fold it up but you won't forget

You can strike a match but it still might not light
Now I'm the one stuck inside this silver cage,
The bird that can't fly away clips it's wings if it sings of the way, the way that it hurt
Waiting for her to say it:


Low f-I-d-e-l-I-t-y do all love songs turn out this way? can't you hear me when I say:
You're in my heart, in my hands, around my neck.

We move like a carousel,
Streak lights and mirrors fill our eyes.
It's time to let this go,
But we can't stop spinning around


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