Telling Lies

Sometimes I feel good, but not all the time
Sometimes I feel so good it must be a crime
It's a mystery, it just baffles me
So much love inside of me
	You have to tell me with your eyes
	You could be telling lies

Some kind of magic, some kind of disease
Love cuts clean to the heart of me
It's a mystery, it confuses me
So much love all around me
	You have to tell me with your eyes
	You could be telling lies

	Cupids targets, hearts carved on trees
	Soap opera, soft pornography

Sunshine in my pocket and love on my sleeve
Songs for mad lovers bleed out of me
It's a mystery, it just baffles me
So much jealousy inside of me
	You have to tell me with your eyes
	You could be telling lies

	Human maths, soul geometry
	Whats (pain, what's love(



Words: David Parkin
Music: Phil Etheridge
February 1993