If this were really love then I suppose it would be easy:
Undocumented grey and cold accelerate the funds,
Asexual friendly friends assisting with the forms,
The speedy restoration of plain norms
You missed since dateline zero and diamonds.
Instead our rotting zombie love's half tearful, always sleazy.

If this were really love then I would not be counting pensions,
The motivation wouldn't be a home for only one,
Word frequently sincere instead of stilted nightly mentions,
Still poised upon the tips of our exploratory tongues,
Believing in a mutual synergistic anti-tension.
Instead we're waiting pointlessly for fairytales to come.

The pater/mater pledge is almost dead,
I'm better on the sofa than in bed,
You think a cake will buy you a main meal:
It's stale as soon as it's a formal deal.

If this were really love then you could trust the stuff I say
And we could tell us everything and we would understand.
You'd sleep on my courageous chest, I'd sync up every day,
Cacophony evolve to serenades from garage grand.
Instead it's not, you can't, we can't, we don't, there's just no way
To heady bliss without the planet running out of sand.