Mission Who Will Love Me Tomorrow
She brings me colours, white wine and roses And then we paint our faces and pwder our noses She gives me her halo and I hang it next to mine Reads to me Mishima like a honeymoon valentine She's an architect of pleasure and she fashions me a fountain she leads me through the clouds to the peak of the highest mountain We dare the heavens on a chariot that we borrow Tonight she is my cradle, but Who will love me tomorrow?
Cold turkey Cindy pulls the mirrors from the wall Walks barefoot on the broken glass and stumbles in from the hall she's shooting paper tigers with the needle that she's borrowed Tonight she is my pillow, so Who will love me tomorrow?
Must I sing so low to get so high? I can't purge myself of demons and I don't know the reason why My heart feels like a battlefield and all my soldiers lie slain I'll never be clean, I'll never be pure again
She greets me like a siren and all her lights are flashing She invites me to her dungeon with the promise of a lashing And with a smile like a sunrise playing on her lips She shows me her collections of butterflies, scars, and whips With fingernails like claws she leaves keepsake souvenirs Like trenches on my back she bathes in saccharine scented tears I feel just like an actor in a play called "Dear Friend Sorrow" Tonight she is my refuge, but Who will love me tomorrow?
