|
It's the farthest place |
|
I've ever been |
|
It's a new frontier for me |
|
And you balance things |
|
Like you wouldn't believe |
|
When you should just let things be |
|
Yes, you juggle things |
|
Cause you can't lose sight |
|
Of the wretched story-line |
|
It's the narrative that must go on |
|
Until the end of time |
|
And you're guilty of some self neglect |
|
And the mind unravels for days |
|
I've told you once |
|
Yes, a thousand times |
|
I'm better off this way |
|
I'm better off this way |
|
Where's my queen of hearts |
|
My royal flush |
|
I have cleaned and scrubbed her decks |
|
My suicide, my better days |
|
There's nothing |
|
I regret I've placed the |
|
Gods In a zip-lok bag |
|
I've put them in a drawer |
|
They've refused my prayers |
|
For the umpteenth time |
|
So I'm evening up the score |
|
Small metal |
|
Gods From a casting line |
|
From a factory in |
|
Mumbai Some manual labourer's bread and butter |
|
And a single-minded lie |
|
Small metal |
|
Gods Cheap souvenirs |
|
You've abandoned me for sure |
|
I'm dumping you, my childish things |
|
I'm evening up the score. |
