Sense
(Ian Broudie/Terry Hall)
I'm flying high on something beautiful and aimless,
it's got a name but I prefer to call it nameless.
It comes and goes leaves me on a bed of splinters,
feels like I'm living in a town closed down for winter.
The taste of Love,
the more you get, the more you want,
and all because,
the only reason is just because.
It all makes Sense,
when you're near
it all makes Sense.
I'm standing high on tiptoes looking over fences,
waiting for somebody like you to kiss me Senseless.
I've had a bellyfull of faces drawn in sadness,
I want to jump deep into tides of loving madness.
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