Jacques Cousteau and John Lomax
Collected thoughts and declared them facts
Committed them like childhood pacts
Sell them off when you need the cash
I think I feel something
But it's not love,
darling And this might mean something
But it's not love,
darling It's just me,
myself and it
Like some stupid nervous kid
Blaming you for the things I did
Talking my way out of things I can't admit
I think I feel something But it's not love,
darling
And this might mean something But it's not love,
darling
Keep a record of your travels Little pieces
Of where you've been
John Lomax and Jacques Cousteau
Another lonely night out on the road
That open joint flume and some watering hole
Scared in the room for someone to hold I
think I feel something But it's not love,
darling
And this might mean something But it's not love,
darling
Keep a record of your travels Little pieces Of where you've been
She,
she falls in love
She falls in love
She falls in love She,
she falls in love
She falls in love And she falls in love all over again
But it's not love, darling But it's not love
And this might mean something But it's not love
Keep a record of your travels Little pieces