Dogs and their leashes and the owners that hit them

We’re two shootin’ cowboys on the open, hopin’ range

We’re two pairs of eyes in the dark

We’re two ballerinas jumping wild up on the stage

We’re two nightingales in the park

We’re two silent film stars reading lips across the room

We’re two half empty cups of sour gin

We’re two sets of bones mixed up in the same tomb

We’re two different types of deadly sin

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We’re laughing in your kitchen making waffles in your toaster

We’re lying facing opposite directions in your bed

I’m sitting on the floor, I’m crying for attention

You’re all the way wrapped up in your own head

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I’m laying with my head against your shoulder on the bus

We’re sharing headphones, listening to The Great Gig in the Sky

And if you look me in the eyes and tell me that you love me

I’ll let you wring me out until I’m dry