We might kiss when we are aloneWhen nobody’s watchingWe might take it homeWe might make out when nobody’s thereIt’s not that we’re scaredIt’s just that it’s delicate
We might kiss when we are alone
When nobody’s watching
We might take it home
We might make out when nobody’s there
It’s not that we’re scared
It’s just that it’s delicate
It makes no difference to meIf I die in my sleep tonightI’m sick to the boneAnd longing for home
It makes no difference to me
If I die in my sleep tonight
I’m sick to the bone
And longing for home
Next time I promise we’ll be Perfect Perfect Perfect strangers down the line Lovers out of time Memories unwind 
Next time I promise we’ll be 
Perfect 
Perfect 
Perfect strangers down the line 
Lovers out of time 
Memories unwind 
You were fighting as a soldier on their sideYou’re still a soldier in your mindThough nothing’s on the line
You were fighting as a soldier on their side
You’re still a soldier in your mind
Though nothing’s on the line
“The struggle of [people] against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting" — Milan Kundera
The struggle of [people] against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting" — Milan Kundera