Too Much (Of My Love) Will Kill You
How much of my love can you take, I wonder.
Before you lie dead or run for cover?
How much of my affection can you receive
When you take so much that I have none left to give?
How much of my whims can you endure
Before you say, “I’ve had it with you, I’m sure!”?
How much of my thoughts can you hold
Before you tell me, “Honey, all of that’s been told!”?
I give you too much and you say “That’s enough!”
So I give just a little, and you ask, “Is that all you got?”
I ask too many questions and you say, “What’s with all these?
Dear, all that is giving me unease.
So I keep quiet and shut my mouth and you say, “What the hell’s wrong with you?
Speak, say something. You know I’d rather that you ask.”
I say too much of my love will kill you.
If you don’t know yet, well it’s high time that it hit you.
Too much of my attention will spoil you — and rot, you will,
Oh yes you will, I tell you.
Too much of my affection will melt you, make you soft as a pillow,
light as a feather — a brand new you.
Too much of my fire will scorch you — no — burn you!
Like a helpless pile of dry leaves under the unforgiving sun’s heat.
You’ll never know love until you’ve felt mine.
You’ll never know life until you’ve lived yours with mine.
You’ll never know pain until I hit you like a train.
And you’ll never know death until you drive me insane.