F.E.E.L.I.N.G. C.A.L.L.E.D. L.O.V.E

The room is cold and has been like this for several months. If I close my
eyes I can visualise everything in it right down, right down to the
broken handle on the third drawer down of the dressing table. And the
world outside this room has also assumed a familiar shape, the same
events stuffed in a slightly different order each day. Just like a modern
shopping centre. And it's so cold - yeah it's so cold. An as I'm
standing across this room I feel as if my whole life has been leading to
this one moment. And as I touch your shoulder tonight this room has
become the centre of the entire universe. So what do I do? I've got a
slightly sick feeling in my stomach like I'm standing on top of a very
high building oh yeah. All the stuff they tell you about in the movies but
this isn't chocolate boxes and roses. It's dirtier than that, like some
small animal that only comes out at night. And I see flashes of the
shape of your breasts and the curve of your belly and they make me
have to sit down and catch my breath. It's so cold yeah, it's so cold.
What is this feeling called love. Why me, why you, why here, why now
ooh. It doesn't make no sense no. It's not convenient no. It doesn't fit