Fever and Love
You're a little bit of water, little bit of blood A little bit of reason and a little bit of luck. A little bit of fever and a little bit of love Little bit of falling, and a lot of getting up.
Just another drunk, in just another dive bar, same chair as last time, same clothes as last night A waitress, stretching every pay check, behind on her statements for education payments Just another traveller, you think you got character because you've been to India or Africa to study the vernacular Another lonely man, got the boney hands, picking up the soda cans to pay his way.
You're a little bit of water, little bit of blood Little bit of reason and a little bit of luck. A little bit of fever and a little bit of love Little bit of falling, and a lot of getting up.
You're just another actress with just another agent, selling drugs to pay rent, pawning off your bracelets Just another overweight living on left over take aways addicted to thick shakes ignoring the headaches A Bob Dylan wannabe sitting in economy pouring over poems like they're tickets to the lottery an unlucky citizen to watch the house he's living in filling with water again.
You're a little bit of water, little bit of blood Little bit of reason and a little bit of luck. A little bit of fever and a little bit of love Little bit of falling, and a lot of getting up.
Just another bride on the best day of her life, a sky diver on his ninth flight relaxing for the first time You're just another dancer dressed up in the funk, resting in the build ups and waiting for the drums You're just another father who just met his new grandson, sitting next to grandma looking at the new mum. You're just another activist working for the peace core, just another first kiss from the boy you've got a thing for.
You're a little bit of water, little bit of blood Little bit of reason and a little bit of luck. A little bit of fever and a little bit of love Little bit of falling, and a lot of getting up.
There's no medicine or remedy For this fever furious in me It's got claws so sharp, it'll cut a man in two. There ain't no arsenal to fight it with It has eyes like ice and a vice like grip I'm flushed with with fire, I'm feverish for you. And the tonics only scratch the surface That fever grows, like a plague with purpose Made of cold sweats and a basement furnace Where the poetry purrs and the words are earnest I wonder would it break if that person heard this A girl so fly that her skirt gets nervous with tricks so wild that you'll curse the circus If so I'm gonna write till my words are worthless No appetite could compete With this fever hiding inside me So I'm gonna sing you silent even though
You're just another version of just another person, you could have been a surgeon, you could have been a nun. I'm just another hipster, with long hair and whiskers and these pants that don't fit, sat staring at the sun. None of us are any more the wiser than any other kind of person living next to where the other rats run. So I'm just gonna write and sing, play and love my friends and drink, cause I don't have a clue to when the end is gonna come.
Written by Jamie MacDowell