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Is this room getting smaller or is it just me? |
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I pace myself, brace myself, trying not to breath |
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Oh, these walls are closing in on me like the Death Star bin |
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Oh, that'll learn me, that'll squeeze out all the sin |
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This world is bearing down on me like a fish-eye lens |
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And when it comes down to it, do I have any real friends? |
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How long were those monkeys typing to make all Billy's work? |
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I've some way to go yet, I'll finish this one first |
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Something's gotta give |
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I'm a failing restaurant, all expectant and sad |
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With one eye on the door, playing cards out the back |
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I'm love me, love me, love me, I'm a small bit of a prick |
|
I got the meat sweats from this realpolitik |
|
Sometimes I can see you shining in the night |
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There's Polly and Gillian and your man in the big suit |
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Spitting out confetti that wallops with a kiss |
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And I'm left thinking |
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I wanna be a better band |
|
I wanna be a better band |
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This is it, what are you crying for? |
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This is it, were you expecting more? |
|
This is it, what are you crying for? |
|
This is it, were you expecting more? |
|
I wanna be a better band |
|
This is it, what are you crying for? |
|
This is it, were you expecting more? |
|
This is it, what are you crying for? |
|
This is it, were you expecting more? |
|
I wanna be a better band |
|
I wanna be a better band, oh |
|
I wanna be a better band |
|
I wanna be a better band, oh |
|
And shoot fire from my hands |
|
Fire from my hands |
|
Shoot fire from my hands |
