I Thought I Heard Sirens

You'll never look as beautiful as underneath that buzzing streetlight

Shouting curse words at the night sky with tears streaming from your eyes

But in true classic fashion, I couldn't take cover fast enough

And the falling voices just fell back onto me

I said, "Things'll make more sense when we're back in California"

Yeah, I guess I don't make much sense when I'm not in California

But little did I know that you're composed entirely of cigarettes

And the angry vows you screamed that night were a symphony of empty threats

Oh, but you had my toes tappin, honey

And the melody is still stuck in my head

So I fear the only thing that'll let me get some sleep

Is the music box I found in your chest when we were lying in the street

But back on the coast, it seems your blood boils to electro beats

There's nothing classic about it, there's nothing classic about it

Your words are washing up on the beach

Please stop making sense, please stop making sense

I can't stand it

You said, "Love has this cruel habit of

Not lasting the night, not crossing state lines

So come on,

There are no sirens sounding,

There are no burning buildings falling around us,

So that's not love at all, no, not at all

So come on,

Your lungs aren't collapsing,

I mean, if you're still breathing,

Then really, come on now,

That's not love at all, no, not at all"

Your words are washing up on the beach

Please stop making sense, please stop making sense

I can't stand it