Woorden: Tori Amos. Little Earthquakes. Leather.

Look I'm standing naked before you; don't you want more than my sex?
I can scream as loud as your last one, but I can't claim innocence.
Oh, God, could it be the weather? Oh, God, why am I here?
If love isn't forever and it's not the weather, hand me my leather.

I could just pretend that you love me; the night would lose all sense of fear.
But why do I need you to love me, when you can't hold what I hold dear?
Oh God, could it be the weather? Oh God, why am I here?
If love isn't forever and it's not the weather, hand me my leather.


I almost ran over an angel, he had a nishe big fat shigar.
"In a sense," he said, "You're alone here, so if you jump, you best jump far."
Oh, God, could it be the weather? Oh, God, why am I here?
If love isn't forever and it's not the weather, aha...
Oh, God, could it be the weather? Oh, God, it's all very clear.
If love isn't forever and it's not the weather, hand me my leather.
Ya die die da die die, ya die da da da die, ya die...