When you think of pleasure, does it make you sick?
Like a whirling carousel that has stopped to quick
Now the glass is frozen, and I'm outside looking in
I see two lovers trading moans as I'm soaken to the skin
I'm left to wonder
I'm left to cry
Reluctant Voyeur
I want to die
I don't know what it's like
To be the kind of guy
Who could look a woman straight in the eye
And to know she was mine
Everybody's doing it, am I the only one
Who has to steal pleasure from the point of a gun
Just to know you've been loved
Just to say that you've been loved