Touch me like a cliche
Because skin's not silk,
And your hands aren't that smooth
The heart's just an organ
But I feel your blood rushing
Like sweet hot red love
And you don't make me burn
Though if I could, I'd burn for you
On a pyre of all my lies
I'd whisper that you were my only
Because right now you are
Although that's subject to change
And I don't see me reflected in your eyes
They're just blue, and right now
You want this, lips touching
And hands in places that
They've got no right being
Not when we're not in love
'Cause love's just a cliche
And you're not all I need,
You're just a part of it.