The pain that comes from deep love makes your love more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root.
It's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace, and a wound that will never heal. No prima donna, the perfume is on an old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey. Goodnight to the street sweepers, the night watchmen flame keepers and goodnight, Matilda, too.