Dear Irony - Whitehorse

Dear irony

Across the bridge, an hour lost on Bedford Street

I never meant to get our wires crossed, you see

So I’ll give it to you straight

The hour’s getting late

Dear irony

The thrill you spill on Williamsburg is lost on me

Can we just agree to disagree?

Please don’t make me talk about it

I don’t want to fight

Hey, ecstasy

You always let the better get the best of me

You sink your teeth so deep that I am left to bleed

Now our hotel key’s expired

The chain we made so tired

Sweet mockery

You and I share too much dirty history

It’s not that I can’t go for all your mystery

Such ordinary fears

Are boring us to tears