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It`s getting cold.

Thought it was too soon to tell but it was terribly old

and as the heartbeat slows to a heartless crawl.



The lights went out,

The lights went out

and darkness filled the house on a tiring night

under Long Island skies.



I thought I`d known the consequence,

but sweetness, can you believe this?

This mess we`ve made of it.

This mess we`ve made of it.

In years to come it might make sense

but sweetness, can you believe this?

What`s become of it?

Just what`s become of it?



Well if you hear this and you think you`re ready,

meet me in Montauk where we`ll write out in the sand,

"Here lies the destiny of two hurt souls afraid to be cured again."

That could be our epitaph.



I thought I`d known the consequence,

but sweetness, can you believe this?

This mess we`ve made of it.

This mess we`ve made of it.

In years to come it might make sense

but sweetness, can you believe this?

Just what`s become of it?

Just what`s become of it?



I thought I`d known the consequence,

but sweetness, can you believe this?

This mess we`ve made of it.

This mess we`ve made of it.

In years to come it might make sense

but sweetness, can you believe this?

What`s become of it?

Just what`s become of it?



I know (I know...)



I thought I`d known the consequence,

but sweetness, can you believe this?

This mess we`ve made of it.

This mess we`ve made of it.

In years to come it might make sense

but sweetness, did you foresee this?

What`s become of it?

What`s become...

It`s getting cold.

Thought it was too soon to tell but it was terribly old

and as the heartbeat slows to a heartless crawl.



The lights went out,

The lights went out

and darkness filled the house on a tiring night

under Long Island skies.



I thought I`d known the consequence,

but sweetness, can you believe this?

This mess we`ve made of it.

This mess we`ve made of it.

In years to come it might make sense

but sweetness, can you believe this?

What`s become of it?

Just what`s become of it?



Well if you hear this and you think you`re ready,

meet me in Montauk where we`ll write out in the sand,

"Here lies the destiny of two hurt souls afraid to be cured again."

That could be our epitaph.



I thought I`d known the consequence,

but sweetness, can you believe this?

This mess we`ve made of it.

This mess we`ve made of it.

In years to come it might make sense

but sweetness, can you believe this?

Just what`s become of it?

Just what`s become of it?



I thought I`d known the consequence,

but sweetness, can you believe this?

This mess we`ve made of it.

This mess we`ve made of it.

In years to come it might make sense

but sweetness, can you believe this?

What`s become of it?

Just what`s become of it?



I know (I know...)



I thought I`d known the consequence,

but sweetness, can you believe this?

This mess we`ve made of it.

This mess we`ve made of it.

In years to come it might make sense

but sweetness, did you foresee this?

What`s become of it?

What`s become...

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