|
Once I got this fancy job |
|
I can't lie, I got fat |
|
Once you get a backyard to maintain |
|
it gets hard to go back |
|
I try to pull the pain from the most mundane of places |
|
but it all feels weak: |
|
a wrinkle on my face |
|
a cold sore in the cheek |
|
but if you stack the world on my back, |
|
if you squeeze the eyes from my head |
|
I'll still make those diamonds, diamonds, diamonds |
|
diamonds 'til I'm dead |
|
Call it what you will: |
|
a changing of the tune |
|
a pepper in the mill |
|
a salting of the wound |
|
so now it takes a week to write a song about writer's block |
|
and all I do is watch the clock |
|
but if you take the soup from my bowl, |
|
ya, if you take the love from my bed, |
|
if you take the hope from my soul |
|
well I'll still give you diamonds, diamonds, |
|
diamonds 'til I'm dead |
|
diamonds 'til I'm dead |
|
I still make those diamonds, diamonds, diamonds |
|
diamonds 'til I'm dead |
|
[blazing solo] |
|
Is it wrong that there's nothing wrong? |
|
Without conflict is it still a song? |
|
Should I take the money and stand still? |
|
Should I trade the wind for the trees? |
|
Or can I bear the weight with my will? |
|
Can I break the world on my knees? |
|
all for those diamonds, diamonds, diamonds, |
|
diamonds 'til I'm dead |
|
I still make those diamonds, diamonds, diamonds, |
|
diamonds 'til I'm dead |
|
[repeat ad nauseam] |
