Tekster: Incubus. A Crow Left Of The Murder. Here In My Room.

This party is old and uninviting
Participants all in black and white
You enter in full blown Technicolor
Nothing is the same after tonight

If the world were to fall apart
In a fiction-worthy wind
I wouldn't change a thing
Now that you're here

And love is a verb
Here in my room, here in my room, here in my room
Yeah, love is a verb
Here in my room, here in my room, here in my room

You enter and close the door behind you
Now show me the world as seen from the stars
If only the lights would dim a little
And I'm weary of eyes upon my scars

If the world were to fall apart
In a fiction-worthy wind
I wouldn't change a thing
Now that you're here

And love is a verb
Here in my room, here in my room, here in my room
Yeah, love is a verb
Here in my room, here in my room, here in my room

Pink tractor beam into your incision
Head spinning as free as Dervish's whirl
I came here expecting next to nothing
So thank you for being that kind of girl

That kind of girl
That kind of girl
That kind of girl
...