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Love is like a cannonball.
Open the door or it'll use the wall,
And blow your heart into smithereens
Leave the prettiest mess that you've ever seen.
But how does it go when you're on your own?
Love is a river. You're a sinking stone.
It rose like the sun. Light filled up your home.
But it sank like a bomb, and left you shivering to the bone.
Love is like a speeding train.
It'll take you where you're going, unless you're standing in its way.
Then it blows you right of the tracks,
And leaves you with regrets that you can never take back.
These are the instruments we all paint with:
The pigment of a prayer, the water of a myth.
We can destroy the only reason to live,
Or we can create what they say don't exist,
And it all just turns to fire and rain,
And you will never be the same again.
It's true, you may just be a pawn in the game.
But then again, this may be no game at all.
Love's a cannonball.
Love's a cannonball.
Love's a cannonball.
