No love would come of us, honey
no love would come of us.
We're too rigidly strung by life
held by mere wire which bends not
to accommodate or carress
the bodies we swore each other to.
No love would come of us, honey
the dainty lights of Kensington
shine no sentimentality on us.
We're too cold to the touch
hardly living to breathe hot air
which disappears in winter's night.
No love would come of us, honey
no love at all.
And if I could undo everything
and never have met you, I would,
and live a lonesome life
never knowing at all.
