Your face is like the moment when
the sexist hero traps the slippy villain
with the weasel face
You don't have to speak
- your expression is the truth that your words don't say
and the truth won't go away
In many dark corners
I have asked myself about this;
did you do it out of malice
Did you fall or were you kissed ?
Would you ask your friend
with the cowboy jacket and the boots up to his knee
would he shut his mouth for me ?
I've heard just enough
all I want to hear about pipes and drums
and how little time it takes the klutz to come
The golden gift of silence
is I don't have to hear him speak
So would you get him out yourself
before I put you both back in the street
Now the story shifts
and we see a young man standing in the wings
too old before his time
Collecting grey hairs, he's proud and he's scared
and he says he doesn't care
- how can he be so blind ?
So how did you corrupt him ?
You must have got him where it counts
Now he's so numb he's ready to freeze
and I'm ready for the Monkeyhouse !
