| I meet this girl with a righthand heart
|
| I notice nothing until we start to kiss
|
| And my hand goes beneath her dress
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| To the lefthand breast
|
| Downstairs the party’s going full swing
|
| The people we came with haven’t noticed a thing
|
| As I tease the teat with my teeth
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| I feel nothing underneath
|
| She puts my ear across her chest
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| Rests my head against the righthand breast
|
| Sure enough her heart is there
|
| Loud and clear
|
| Beat, beating, beating on
|
| The right side of oblivion
|
| Beat, beating, beating on
|
| The wrong side of her body
|
| And though I know there’s nothing dangerous in it
|
| I’m feeling queasy, getting worse by the minute
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| Wondering how to escape this nightmare
|
| When up the stair
|
| Comes this boy with no heart at all
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| Him and her they make the perfect couple
|
| Him so blind in his rapacity
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| That he doesn’t even see it
|
| Beat, beating, beating on
|
| The right side of oblivion
|
| Beat, beating, beating on
|
| The wrong side of her body
|
| And as I contemplate this mating of rapacity and sickness
|
| Of which I am the fascinated, unwilling witness
|
| I see he couldn’t care where her heart might be
|
| And I say «what the hell is wrong with me?
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| Am I just too pure and too proud?"
|
| And as the bed creaks I ask myself aloud
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| «Could it be that what makes me a freak Is my contempt for freaks?»
|
| I start to sweat, I feel it approach
|
| Familiar self-hate, familiar self-reproach
|
| And under my guard again it beats so hard
|
| My righthand heart
|
| Beat, beating, beating on
|
| The right side of oblivion
|
| Beat, beating, beating on
|
| The wrong side of my body
|
| Beat, beating, beating on
|
| The right side of oblivion
|
| Beat, beating, beating on |