Bittersweet Lyrics - Singles - Jet Lag Gemini

Even though you want it 

You really shouldn't think about it 

Treason is a tar pit 

It's so tacky to preserve alone 

Can you live like a crow? There's your answer 

As you pick at my bones with your friends and 

Their barren tongues won't fill your lungs 

Love tends to dry 

(And you can find it in a heartbeat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And leave it tangled in the bed sheets) 

Love tends to dry 

(You burn your bridges in the backseat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And show up widowed on the high street) 

Come on, say you've done it 

Though we don't have to talk about it 

The stains left on the carpet 

Scream loud enough for all to know 

Do your legs fail the floor? There's your answer 

A mistake with a sword needs a ransom 

But you've got no jazz to have the cash 

Love tends to dry 

(And you can find it in a heartbeat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And leave it tangled in the bed sheets) 

Love tends to dry 

(You burn your bridges in the backseat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And show up widowed on the high street) 

Love tends to dry 

(And you can find it in a heartbeat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And leave it tangled in the bed sheets) 

Love tends to dry 

(You burn your bridges in the backseat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And show up widowed on the high street) 

In a coat for assault, desperate and bleak 

Oh, so bittersweet 

Love tends to dry 

(And you can find it in a heartbeat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And leave it tangled in the bed sheets) 

Love tends to dry 

(You burn your bridges in the backseat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And show up widowed on the high street) 

Love tends to dry 

(And you can find it in a heartbeat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And leave it tangled in the bed sheets) 

Love tends to dry 

(You burn your bridges in the backseat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And show up widowed on the high street) 

Love tends to dry 

(And you can find it in a heartbeat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And leave it tangled in the bed sheets) 

Love tends to dry 

(You burn your bridges in the backseat) 

In hands that don't try 

(And show up widowed on the high street) 

Oh, so bittersweet