I should know better than to
Take your love letters to heart
When the game's already lost
Before it starts
But hope hide inside the cliche
Like a nod of understanding
From the power who first felt this way
How can I turn away?
I can't help it
I'm a moth to the flame
(he's that kind of man, mama)
But every little pull at the
End of the golden rope
Fills my foolish heart with foolish hope
That maybeyou might feel the same
As if feeling the same has the
Name of the game, the name of the game
I shouldn't be playing
I can't help it
I'm a moth to the flame
(he's that kind of man, mama)
Close enough, Close enough,
Close enough to you I can't get
Close enough, Close enough,
Close enough to you I can't get
I shouldn't be playing
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