Sunday's Pretty Icons - text

There is no hole in which to hide
There is no plane to catch
No hotel room that's warm enough
No rented room that's quiet

A friend I've known through six degrees
Comes down to where I hide
A friend I've known through dreams and prayers
She comes back to my side

You're so far from wanting to talk
You're so far from wanting to say something good
Feel something good

The secret lives and loves of girls
The secret lives of boys
The story of the both of us
Too close to ever love

Whisky from the island of sand
Whisky from the year you were born
Tastes like kidnap and ransom and exile

Somebody asked me what heaven was like
Somebody asked me for hell
Somebody asked me what heaven was like
Lunch in the happening canteen of souls

Every girl you ever admired
Every boy you ever desired
Every love you ever forgot
Every person that you despised is forgiven