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That’s Not Love

It’s been many months since I applied myself to the task of channeling experience into melody and words, and I’m happy to announce on this full moon that I have completed a new song, That’s Not Love.

I never know quite where I am going with music until I start, even when (as in this case) I do know what I want to write about and the manner of it. If you can spit blood with a mouthful of candy floss, that’s what I was attempting; but don’t think it’s a punk performance piece on consumerism and diabetes, it’s just a song about love gone wrong, like many of my songs, and all of my love affairs.

I say that with confidence because otherwise I would be married – or perhaps having found the the love of my life, widowed, heaven forfend – which I am neither.

So, lyrics.

As opportunities go, it was a good one
And we may never see it again
In the dark of the night windows are mirrors
And there’s nowhere to hide from the rain

You can’t do what you want, it can’t hurt me
Cuts and bruises will heal over time
But the lies that you tell are a tale of personal hell
“As long as it hurting, he’s mine…”

And you can’t tell the saints from the sinners
Gonna feed you or have you for dinner
In her mind she’s a bitch, she’s a grass, she’s a snitch
And the ice that she’s on’s getting thinner

Ooh, that’s not love, no that’s not love
That isn’t love

You shine like a light in the darkness
Grown cold and burnt out by the brightness of day
You pay for the rides on your big rollercoaster
But you secretly wish you could just walk away

There’s a place in your heart for the madness
Which you couldn’t leave if you tried
You know very well it feels safe in your personal hell
“Won’t you please join me inside?”

And just like mummy and daddy
You can’t tell the good from the baddies
Moon and stars are aligned, so she tries to be kind
But she can’t understand why she feels so sad

Ooh, that’s not love, no that’s not love
That isn’t love

© Dean Whitbread 2013 All Rights Reserved