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Pulp
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F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E
The room is cold and has been like this for several months
If I close my eyes I can visualise everything in it right down
Right down to the broken handle on the third drawer down of the dressing table
And the world outside this room has also assumed a familiar shape
The same events stuffed in a slightly different order each day
Just like a modern shopping centre
And it's so cold - yeah it's so cold
What..is..this feeling called love?
Why me? Why you? Why here? Why now?
It doesn't make no sens no. It's not convenient no
It doesn't fit my plans no
It's something I don't understand oh
And as I'm standing across this room
I feel as if my whole life has been leading to this one moment
And as I touch your shoulder tonight
This room has become the centre of the entire universe
So what do I do?
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I've got a slightly sick feeling in my stomach
Like I'm standing on top of a very high building, oh yeah
All the stuff they tell you about in the movies
But this isn't chocolate boxes and roses
It's dirtier than that
Like some small animal that only comes out at night
And I see flashes of the shape of your breasts and the curve of your belly
And they make me have to sit down and catch my breath
It's so cold yeah, it's so cold
What..is..this feeling called love
Why me? Why you? Why here? Why now?
It doesn't make no sense no. It's not convenient no
It doesn't fit my plans no
But I got that taste in my mouth again
F.E.E.L.I.N.G. C.A.double L.E.D. L.O.V.E.
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