Depeche Mode

The sweetest perfection
To call my own
The slightest correction
Couldn't finaly hone
The sweetest infection
Of body and mind
The sweetest injection
Of any kind
(*) I stop and I stare too much
Affraid that I care too much
And I hardly dare to touch
For fear that the spell may be broken
When I need a drug in me
And it brings out the thug in me
Feel something's tugging me
Than I want the real things not tokens
The sweetest perfection ...
the following as above (*)
Things you'd expect to be
Having effect on me
Pass undetectedly
But everyone knows what has got me
Takes me completely
Touches so sweetly
Reaches so deeply
I know that nothing can stop me

The sweetest perfection
An offer was made
An assorted collection
But I wouldn't trade
The sweetest perfection ...
change H -> C7 to the end
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From: Max Stepanov, Russia, St.Petersburg
e-mail: profi@dux.ru
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