Baby, I Complain To Keep You Busy

If you whisper, "I love you," I might admit I don't love you at all,
With a topsy-turvy set of you're not worth my time.
Your heartbeat isn't going to stop your breathing; it'll just make it harder,
And now you're touchy, touchy, with a bit of disgust sinking into your lenses.

Now, now you've fallen I see; this is a little tragic, but you're just so ugly;
And I"d help you this time, but I'm afraid of your diseases.
What was that? You're a little cold, lying there on the ground?
Too bad you've forgotten how to get back up; such a tragedy.

So we'll paint the sunset with our bottled lies,
It'll turn our sight from black and white to a sight so colorful.
What if I'd never have taught you how to fall?
It's just a little too late to get back up, just a little too late.

And the moment you began to whisper, my ears went deaf.
But I guess you'll always be that ugly.
A little contempt can assume the worst, but it's just like a bit of angry thunder;
Oh, baby, baby, we'll adopt the aroma of electric shock - taste like a bit of failure;

Baby, it's like I complain just to keep you busy.