Trouble loves me, trouble needs me
Two things more than you do or would attempt to
So, console me
Otherwise, hold me
Just when it seems like everything's evened out
And the balance seems serene

Trouble loves me, walks beside me
To chide me not to guide me
It's still much more than you'll do
So, console me
Otherwise, hold me
Just when it seems like everything's evened out
And the balance seems serene

See the fool I'll be, still running round
On the flesh rampage, still running round

Ready with ready-wit, still running round
On the flesh rampage, at your age
Go to Soho, oh
Go to waste in the wrong arms, still running round

Trouble loves me, seeks and finds me
To charlatanise me, which is only as it should be
Oh, please fulfill me
Otherwise, kill me

Show me a barrel and watch me scrape it
Faced with the music, as always I'll face it
In the half-light so English, frowning
Then at midnight I can't get you out of my head
A disenchanted taste, still running round
A disenchanted taste, still running round

See also:
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