|
The cracks in your face |
|
where the porcelain broke |
|
some things don't get better with age |
|
and I swear I remember |
|
everyword that you spoke |
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and the china you left in your place |
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A litany of faces |
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I'm number one |
|
counting backwards from one hundred |
|
and count on one hand |
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the truths that you spoke |
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and every lie you called romantic |
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Given a choice |
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between you and me |
|
you pick you and I'll pick me |
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I'll never forget what you said |
|
when you left |
|
Everyman for himself |
|
Your new dress fits well |
|
with a pointed smile |
|
I hope there's no cracks at the seams |
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and a modest appraisal |
|
for the things that you value |
|
prove that some things worth more than |
|
mere dreams |
|
In my bedroom there's a wasteland |
|
where the story card broke |
|
and the darkness builds up from the floor |
|
like walking through a mine field |
|
with both eyes closed |
|
at each step expecting the worst |
|
bought random in panic |
|
what wasn't expecting |
|
I don't think that pain is romantic |
|
and at everystep fall |
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till it's all a dull throb |
|
Yeah sure - love conquers all |
