The Nerves End At The Fingertips
all day long the day has been dying | all day long you said to me sighing: | "i canít scream as loud as youíre laughing | and youíre laughing | and i canít sing as loud as you love me | do you love me?" || the nerves end at the fingertips | i canít do more than kiss your lips | and itís the same old fear | we can be close but we will never || never be near || weíre bound by skin | weíre caught in flesh || all day long the day has been dying | all day long you sat there crying || the nerves end at your fingertips | the nerves end at your fingertips | and itís the same old fear | we can be close but we will never || never be near || weíre bound by skin | weíre caught in flesh||
one day my friend found a catalogue for an exhibition of contemporary photography in a bookstore. the introduction was designed like a kind of hard copy version of a hypertext with links on terms such as semiotization, rhizome, lines of flight, symbolic order, folding and topology. "hey..." she said to me "...here's a text that thomas [an acquaintance of ours] might be interested in..." and while she was showing it to me we discovered that thomas had in fact written it. to cut a long story short: the book was called "the nerves end at the fingertips" and the song sort of grew around this title.