pull the car onto the shoulder now
you;re making a mess
just a little bit of irony
yr life is running out yr eyeballs
in a pretty blue parade
things were fine until the angel
poked out of yr chest
& read yr happy life, the riot act
now you;re drowning in a sea
of broken promises you made

breakup breakdown
pull the joystick back
until you black out softly

pull the bull out of the china shop
he;s making a mess
let him loose into the gallery
pour the dust into the bloodstream
till it;s all that you can see
what;s the point in pulling punches
you can;t even guess
what;s the point in faking flattery
what;s the point in anything that
pulls you far away from me?

we;re so very sorry

music: theatre of tragedy; crash concrete
mood: absent minded