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Psycho therapist once claimed |
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I had acute neurosis |
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Well, I only said a couple words |
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And he made his diagnosis |
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He said I could say whatever |
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I wantBecause |
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I never chose this |
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So I spat, grinned, then |
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I looked at him |
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And I blew him a glass cold kiss behind |
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Knows just when |
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I let a bottom be dead |
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Never too sure if it's the truth or a lie |
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I'm not asking for your pity |
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Oh woe, is me sarcastically |
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I'm not losing sleep pathetically |
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While waxing so poetically |
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But I'm waning, waning alphabetically |
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As I keep dropping bombs, dropping bombs |
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Dropping bombs apologetically |
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It was a wicked whimpering |
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Winter plagued night |
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When my tongue grew wings |
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And took to flight |
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The thought had never crossed |
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My mind before that moment |
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Is the truth so bent, it can't be broken |
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Jealousy got the best of me |
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And had a conference with the rest of me |
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And said if this is all that's left for me |
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Then there's so little room for regret |
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Little voice, little voice |
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Little voice inside my head |
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Said if you don't regret nothing |
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Then you might as well be dead |
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Might as well be dead |
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Might as well be dead |
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So I apologize, mostly |
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To the four of my guys |
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Who stand behind me |
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On the stage every night |
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As the mic starts to whisper |
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And the words start to blister in my mouth |
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That I know aren't right |
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I gotta get back to who |
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I wasBefore my last ten years on auto-pilot |
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It's the mask that quite often |
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Starts to eat into your face |
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So wear it lightly like a cap |
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That can quickly be replaced |
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I gotta get back to who |
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I wasBefore my last ten years on auto-pilot |
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So tell me again how my life |
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Should have been before |
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I was spineless |
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Before I gave in' |
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Cause everybody thinks it's timeless |
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Well, time's running out |
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One thing |
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I'll never regret is |
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I never shed my face |
