An empty magazine

This is our love song
and you wrote it well

your soft lips
your bruised hips
this is our love song
and you wrote it well

an empty magazine
a murder of passion
you wouldn't listen
this is our end

my heart's racing
my stomache's aching
this is our love song
and you wrote it well

an empty magazine
a murder of passion
you wouldn't listen
this is our end