Lavos

This is the moment that you know, that you told her that you loved her, but you don't.<br> You touched her skin, and then you think that she is beautiful, but she don't mean a thing to me.<br> She is beautiful, but she don't mean a thing to me.<br><br> I spent two weeks in Silverlake, the California sun cascading down my face.<br> There was a girl with light brown streaks, and she was beautiful, but she didn't mean a thing to me.<br> She was beautiful, but she didn't mean a thing to me.<br><br> I wanted to believe in all the words that I was speaking, as we moved together in the dark.<br> And all the friends that I was telling, all the playful misspellings, and every bite I gave that left a mark - then tiny vessels oozed into your neck, and formed the bruises that you said you didn't want to fade...<br><br> But they did, and so did I that day.<br><br> All I see are dark gray clouds in the distance, moving closer with every hour.<br> So when you'd ask, "Is something wrong?"<br> I'd say, "You're damn right there is, but we can't talk about it now."<br><br> No, we can't talk about it now.<br><br> So one last touch, and then you'll go, and we'll pretend that it meant something so much more.<br> But it was vile, and it was cheap, and you are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me.<br><br> You are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me.