Is it wicked when you smile even though you feel like crying, even though you could be sick at any time?

Is it wicked not to care when they say that you're mistaken thinking hopes and lots of dreams that aren't there?
Is it wicked not to care when you've wasted many hours talking endlessly to anyone that's there?

I know the truth awaits me but still I hesitate because of fear.

Skipping tickets making rhymes, is that all that you believe in?
Wearing rags to make you pretty by design, rusting armour for effect, it's not fun to watch the rust grow for it will all be over when you're dead.

Counting acts and clutching thoughts by the river where the moss grows over rocks the water running all the time.
Is it wicked when you smile even though you feel like crying, even though you could be sick at any time?

But if there was a sequel, would you love me as an equal?
Would you love me till I'm dead?

If there was a sequel, would you love me like an equal?
Would you love me till I'm dead?

And if there was a sequel would you love me as an equal?
Would you love me till I'm dead?


Or is there someone else instead?

Written by Belle and Sebastian