I hate love, I really do. It never works out quite. The way I want it to. . The trap gets set. Dont they know. The walls go up. And then drama begins.
What will stay?. When everything is going, what remains?. When everything is leaving, when all has slipped away. What will stay?. . What will change?.
Another empty bottle in the hand. It helps to kill the things that we don't understand. The thoughtless speak "Yeah, I'll be there for you". Now sleep through all the dreams I never made come true.
Well, you know sometimes. I find myself. . Wishing for contentment. Hoping for relentment. Venting my resentment. On the happy few, on the happy few, yeah.
Elder green is dead and gone. Lost his way going to town. And I dont know who he is, what he's done. But it sure sounds sweet rolling off the tongue. Yeah, and it sure sounds sweet rolling off the tongue.
Everybodys talking. Nobodys listening. And everybodys sweating. And nobodys glistening. . Nobody knows what hes thinking. Doesnt really step out even when hes drinking.
Wait, don't go too early. You're tired but everyone's tired. But no one is tired enough. Only wait a little and listen. . Music of hair, music of pain.
I've got a new found fangled. Fandango tango angle. And it keeps things curious. Yes, and it makes folks furious. . It takes two part tango. And a little tingle tangle.