Paroles I love you like an alcoholic The Taxpayers

I love you like an alcoholic

Heavy humid night. Corner of Park and Main. Cast that first
glance: your smile, my veins at maximum capacity, blood pumping
so fast. My girl, if looks gave heart attacks. The dangerous
men in the shadows were like an audience, and even the meanest
among them had a little shine in their eyes when they saw us
walk by. Walked about twenty blocks talking about good bars and
better towns than this one. Kissed that first night, and then
the rain opened up the sky to get one last kiss – I love you
like an alcoholic. I love you like a statuette. I need you
like I need a broken leg.
I was getting off the late shift, attempting to recover.
Crumpled up the bus pass and tossed it into the gutter. Some
handsome dark stranger, you were standing there on the corner.
You had those compelling magnetized eyes that you must have lost
when you got older. Seven blocks in, my fingers brushed your
hand; I blushed and you laughed, but you seemed a little sad. I
ain't one to jump a ship, but I absolutely knew – I was six
steps in when I fell into you. One last kiss, I love you like a
broken pot. I love you like a pack of dogs. I need you like I
need a gaping head wound.