Did the seesaw nights put their hands on you?
|
I can't really say, I can't really say
|
|
Are you swinging from the eaves in a tasteful noose?
|
I can't really say, I can't really say
|
|
You're following a flashlight down utility halls
|
And then you mumble to yourself that this has all been your fault
|
And oh, you're not laughing, you're not laughing, are you?
|
|
And now some local loser with a tape and a badge
|
Wants you to answer from the list of pointless questions to ask
|
And no he's not sincere, you're not sincere, are you?
|
|
Then the howls and moans pour from the black and it's a sea of blank faces straight to the back
|
Aggressively mediocre in every single way
|
Yet you're the only reason that they came
|
|
So if you have to keep singing then singing should be fine
|
And if it ain't what you had pictured
|
Yeah that sounds about right
|
|
Does it matter much to me to mean a thing to you?
|
I can't really say, I can't really say
|
|
They blather incessantly, every drossy last one
|
And then they clamour for attention vomiting opinions
|
But oh you weren't asking, you're not asking, are you?
|
|
Ain't it hard when you discover that the only thing you've ever loved is passing your hat
|
and anything that's got a pulse is doing just the same
|
and you're the only reason that you came
|
|
So if you have to keep singing then singing should be fine
|
And if it ain't what you had pictured then yeah that's about right
|
Said if you have to keep singing then singing should be fine
|
And if it ain't what you had pictured then yeah that sounds about right
|
|
-----------------
|
I'm Not Crying. You're Not Crying, Are You?
|
| Dear and the Headlights |