| Some people, they just turn their backs and run
|
| Preferring just to talk about the things they should have done
|
| They talk about the things they’re gonna do
|
| Talkers that are not worth talking to
|
| These doctors drag you down into the deep
|
| Keeping any friends that they can keep
|
| Telling tales they plan stuck on repeat
|
| Whiles even gossers in their jam jars fall asleep
|
| They mean to act their every beck and call
|
| Digging trenches in the ground before they even fall
|
| Arms across their chest, hands on each shoulder
|
| Smoking fags only to watch them smolder
|
| Smoking fags only to watch them smolder
|
| Smoking fags only to watch them smolder
|
| You’re the kind of man who understands
|
| (You're the kind of man who understands)
|
| Something don’t mean nothing till it’s wrapped inside your hands
|
| Hands mean nothing to the dotty fool
|
| Not worth talking to
|
| Ifs and buts and hopes one days and maybes
|
| Are words that just don’t do it for me, baby
|
| You do it like it’s done before already
|
| Before these over-eager hands reach out ahead of me
|
| Don’t talk about
|
| Don’t talk about
|
| Don’t talk about telling all what they say will come true
|
| Don’t talk about
|
| Don’t talk about
|
| Don’t talk about telling all what they say will come true |