| It’s not the same without him here |
| twenty years of him dead and gone |
| this vodka does a memory clear |
| though it’s too hard to imagine what these tears are for |
| a walking poster boy for all that’s good |
| he got swallowed by the cracks before he understood |
| she likes to think he loved her but it hurts so bad |
| 'cause now she knows she’s wrong… |
| it always seemed to strike her strange |
| his working late until the morning, spending so much cash |
| the sweet smell of his angel’s hair |
| that seemed to cling to his lips just like a wax moustache |
| a walking monument to DNA |
| making love under the podium at the P.T.A. |
| he the principal of principles, this love gone bad |
| 'cause now she knows she’s wrong… |
| it hardly seems worth it, baby |
| to late in asking why… |
| juggled his honesty with two balls and an alibi |
| now she knows that, |
| now she knows that, |
| now she knows she’s wrong… |
| a walking posterboy for all that’s good |
| he got swallowed by the cracks before he understood |
| she likes to think he loved her but it hurt so bad |
| 'cause now she knows she’s wrong… |