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Wedding - The Psychedelic Furs

Written by：The Psychedelic Furs

Crooked heals on battered boots

Shoot down ragged miles

I'm coming home

I'm like a girl

In all her rags

And all her pearls

I hear her talk

Through vicious teeth

Sing god is gone

Stop hanging on my sleeve

And I can't speak

And all of that will never please

A hollow moon hung like a heart

Stars like dirty sparks

On dirty seas

And never seen

And all of that

And all of these

I hear her dust

Fall at her feet

And christ and all his crows

Can't keep it neat

So what of me

And all that I don't wanna be

A bitter taste

A bitter pill

Says nothing's ever true

And ever will become of me