Love. Factually
You’ve read too many books
Idolised Mel Gibson’s looks
Played love songs by the dozen
Had a crush on your pretty cousin
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Romance is your middle name
And you thought you could ace that game
Making music with your eyes
Saving damsels was your prize
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Then the world changed overnight
While you were busy with your sword fight
And when you vanquished and you turned
To claim the honour you thought you’ve earned
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What you saw broke your balls
’Cause the lady stopped taking your calls
Love was honour when you placed your bet
But the game changed to slut roulette
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Now you don’t know what is what
The world runs on money and twat
Honourable you, drowning alone in the mix
Surrounded by an ocean full of dicks
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Poor sucker, you. Trapped and confused
Watching his ideals get groped and abused
And you try to think of ‘If’ by Kipling
Even as you hear love’s death knell ring
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Love’s a tee shirt. Love’s a key chain
Love’s a fucking four letter word flowing down the drain
Love’s a letter. That could have been better
If only people wrote. But they just want to get her
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Bullshit walks. And money talks
And the pussy is the prize in the game of cocks
So love’s now a museum piece. Just a fucking relic
Something you watch on TV. After coming home from being a prick
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Love’s a verb. And love’s a noun
It’s something now for the circus clown
Love’s a show. It’s now a roadside skit
Where audiences are drawn in with the flash of a tit
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The chemistry of love is hydrochloric cynicism
The philosophy of love is now the kamasutra ism
The subject of love is now all in tatters
The economics of it is what really matters
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Love’s days are numbered. It’s nights are bright though
The everlasting love song is now the moaning of a whore
The last love song was sung a long time back
The stage is now empty. The theatre under attack
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The lights are dimmed out. There are ghosts in the crowd
Love’s now on auction. And the highest bidder’s proud
He will be taking her home. And fucking love’s brains out
That’s love. Factually. There really is no doubt
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But sometimes during dusk. And sometimes during dawn
When the sky is bleeding tears. And the darkness isn’t torn
There emerges a lady. The one we once knew as Love
Pale and emaciated. But undoubtedly a cut above
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She looks around herself. Hollow eyes searching
For men not on sale. Those not grabbing and lurching
For men that know honour. For men that are steady
For men for whom love means a whole lot already
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For men that would kill. For men that would die
For men who would rather swing on a rope than lie
For men that aren’t afraid to stand for a cause
To protect and to defend. To fight without a pause
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She searches for these men. She searches high and low
She wades through the crowds of easy come, easy go
And she doesn’t give up. She never accepts defeat
Even though every time, she returns alone on blistered feet
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For her, love is everything. A talisman. A token
What holds it all together. When the whole world’s broken
And till the time Time’s alive. And the world turns once more
Love can be found looking for love. Kept alive in some djinn’s lore
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