Crouching on the cool white tile
|
SHe's got to learn to take her medicine
|
With a professional smile
|
Holy vessel or a toilet bowl
|
Puking hopes into a urinal
|
Sun like a blowtorch
|
Cuts through aluminum sky
|
Just like a crippled ballerina
|
In a pair of too-tight slacks
|
It's on her face, expensive tastes
|
But no excess of ready cash
|
She's completely gone
|
Oh, but you know she'll be back
|
|
She's living on a question mark
|
But spending exclamation points
|
It's perjury right from the start
|
She's only whistling in the dark
|
Evidence is thin in her defense
|
And as the prosecution rests
|
The jury's out, the mood is tense
|
They're only whistling in the dark
|
|
So many ways the game could go
|
Timer ticks out minutes left
|
Until it's going to blow
|
She may stumble, but she won't fall
|
Waiting for the curtain call
|
As history repeats in motion slow
|
|
And though her repertoire is good
|
It's just a faded valentine
|
Between the hammer and the nails
|
There lies unspoken compromise
|
Then it strikes you
|
Right between the eyes
|
|
Cause when tomorrow's blown away
|
Seems like tonight is here to stay
|
So she just close her eyes and stumble forward
|
Whistling in the dark
|
Long live the queen, the queen is dead
|
So take the crown off of her head
|
But is that taps or reveille
|
That she is whistling in the dark?
|
|
-----------------
|
Whistling in the Dark
|
| Firewater |
