No Salesman

Hey, Theresa, neighbours still a long way from the start Selling secrets just to pay our dues and play our parts Cold September brings the oldest longing in my heart Words are kicking off a dust of wind of where we are But I love you more, I love you more Like kick drums on your bedroom door And I throw on some piece of mind But you still ain't the salesman kind Now we're floundering like foals in brambles in the night Now we're poking out our eyes to kill the end in sight I would rather tell you yes than tell you that I might I would rather tell you lies than give in to the fight But I love you more, I love you more Like kick drums on your bedroom door And I throw on some piece of mind But you still ain't the salesman kind Theresa says the start can end in a bad way When she sleeps, the coyote screams in her head Theresa says the time has played with our own way I can't find the hands to remind me that there's nothing in the way But I want you more, I want you more As if I'd never said before And I'll throw on some piece of mind But you still ain't the salesman kind