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We hear your one hand clapping. |
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It's music to our ears. |
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You don't like the way we sound. |
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We don't like the way you hear. |
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Sorry we ain't hard enough to piss your parents off. |
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Hatred's not our policy. |
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We tried that game and lost. |
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You keep saying you're just killing time. |
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Be careful, |
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You're killing some of mine. |
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I don't want it. |
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Keep it to yourself. |
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You can't help it, |
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So put it on a shelf. |
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Well hate makes hate. |
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It percolates. |
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You're brewing up a storm. |
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This song's the head of your coffee spoon, |
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Mirroring your form. |
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The distortion's pretty accurate. |
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I'd say your head's about that size. |
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Your vision's been so striken by those beady little eyes. |
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And all the broken nursery rhymes. |
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Old hopes cracked open by cynical minds. |
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We'll try to work them out sometime. |
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I wouldn't want to be so cool in a world about to freeze. |
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You're so hard you're brittle. |
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You shatter easily. |
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And no one's there to pick you up 'cause you fucked with all your friends. |
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Lying there like an unpieced puzzle nobody can mend. |
