Eight Ball

I want your silhouette:
I want you to walk beside me
Park the car somewhere
And find that white tree
My hand on your heart
To hold it in place
If I don’t get to love you
Can I still love your face?
And can I keep trying to fill
The sad wells of your eyes?
And should I tell you
That no one has slept on your side?
But sometimes the bed
Is covered in knives
Ooh…
And when I miss
Your strange beauty
And I hate my arms
For not pulling you to me
The eight ball I shook
It told me to tell you
Tell you
Ooh…