| I hate myself for loving' you and the weakness that it showed
|
| You were just a painted face on a trip down Suicide Road
|
| The stage was set, the lights went out all around the old hotel
|
| I hate myself for loving' you and I’m glad the curtain fell
|
| I hate that foolish game we played and the need that was expressed
|
| And the mercy that you showed to me, who ever would have guessed?
|
| I went out on Lower Broadway and I felt that place within
|
| That hollow place where martyrs weep and angels play with sin
|
| Heard your songs of freedom and man forever stripped
|
| Acting out his folly while his back is being whipped
|
| Like a slave in orbit, he’s beaten 'till he’s tame
|
| All for a moment’s glory and it’s a dirty, rotten shame
|
| There are those who worship loneliness, I’m not one of them
|
| In this age of fiberglass I’m searching for a gem
|
| The crystal ball up on the wall hasn’t shown me nothing yet
|
| I’ve paid the price of solitude, but at least I’m out of debt
|
| Can’t recall a useful thing you ever did for me
|
| 'Cept pat me on the back one time when I was on my knees
|
| We stared into each other’s eyes 'till one of us would break
|
| No use to apologize, what difference would it make?
|
| So sing your praise of progress and of the Doom Machine
|
| The naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be seen
|
| Lady Luck, who shines on me, will tell you where I’m at
|
| I hate myself for loving' you, but I should get over that |