Brett Anderson

Nothing ever goes right, nothing really flows in my life
No one really cares if no one ever shares my bed
People push by with fear in their eyes in my life
Love is dead
Love is dead
The telephone rings but no one ever thinks to speak to me
Traffic speeds by but no one's ever stopped it yet
Intelligent friends don't care in the end, believe me
Love is dead
Love is dead
And plastic people with imaginary smiles
Exchanging secrets at the back of their minds
Plastic people, plastic people