Don't go blowing me a kiss. 'cause you'll see it break down. In all its elegance. Like a model wearing the wrong make-up. For her own fashion parade. Take the broken heart. And stitch it up with some tears. Blush it up dress it up. And put some ice on it. Keeps us cold. Frozen our lips turn lullabies numb. Your laughing melodies. In time with the heartbreak. And rhyme. Don't go blowing me a kiss. 'cause you'll see it break down. In all its elegance. Like a model wearing the wrong make-up. For her own fashion parade. Biting your lip and I know. You are faking it you are hating it. Writing another lipstick letter. Painting our script. You're the artist.. Red for the love. White for the lies. Black the cliches. I see it in your eyes. Brush in some red. Sketch in some blue. Perfect picture. Me and you. Don't forget the title. "inventing tragedy in black and white". Don't go blowing me a kiss. 'cause you'll see it break down. In all its elegance. Like a model wearing the wrong make-up. For her own fashion parade. Singing my casualty. Painting my tragedy. At the bottom of your letters. All my love. All my love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Like a model wearing the wrong make-up. For her own fashion parade. There's no melody that fits. With drop dead gorgeous. Your name doesn't fit with the chorus. Or a line from the song. But she.... Singing your tragedy. And her lipstick. Stains me.... And you. Love. Love. Love. Love