Birds Of A Feather

Where she walks, no flowers bloomHe's the one I see right throughShe's the absinthe on my lipsThe splinter in my fingertipsBut who could do without you?And who could do without you?She the sea I'm sinkin' inHe's the ink under my skinSometimes I can't tell where I amWhere I leave off and he beginsBut who could do without you?And who could do without you?Oh, aren't we a pretty, pretty pair?Yes, we areAll, all the king's horsesAnd all of his menCouldn't tear us apartDancing with a ball and chainThrough it all we still remainLike butterflies around a flameTill ashes, ashes, we fade away