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• Artiste: Postal Service, The
• Titre: Nothing Better
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Will someone please call a surgeon Who can crack my ribs And repair this broken heart That you're deserting for better company? I can't accept that it's over I will block the door Like a goalie tending the net In the third quarter of a tied-game of rivalry So just say how to make it right And I swear I'll do my best to comply Tell me am I right to think That there could be nothing better Than making you my bride And slowly growing old together? I feel I must interject here You're getting carried away Feeling sorry for youself With these revisions and gaps in history So let me help you remember I've made charts and graphs That should finally make it clear I've prepared a lecture on why I have to leave So please back away and let me go I can't, my darling, I love you so Tell me am I right to think That there could be nothing better Than making you my bride And slowly growing old together Don't you feed me lines About some idealistic future Your heart won't heal right If you keep tearing out the sutures I admit that I have made mistakes And I swear I'll never wrong you again You've got a lure I can't deny But you've had your chance so say goodbye Say goodbye