Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song A Perfect Circle, artist - Louis Logic.
Date of issue: 11.06.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
A Perfect Circle |
I’m a single white male thirty-two years old |
And I’ve never been too great with the women |
Well if the truth’s being told I’m not much good with people |
I’ve been alone in all the places I lived in |
But fate had forgiven my shortcomings and brought something Forth from inside |
me that guides me when a call comes in |
It’s as if I’m blessed with a gift to talk someone into a spell unknown |
When I’m lecturin' with the telephone |
But forced run-ins: face to face are hella hard |
I’m afraid to date, but somehow make a great telemarketer |
Cause I can sell Antarctica ice in wintertime |
With twenty-nine inches that won’t melt and mark up the price |
Might be the fact I’m alone |
But most of the human contact I’ve known I’ve always had through the phone |
So when I get back to the home where I live now |
I sit down and dial my old map to see who answers up |
Half the old ones I get the message: |
«The number you have reached has been disconnected» |
With ten digits entered from another past number |
The ringing interrupts a man’s slumber (Hello?) |
And that was just from last summer (Hello?) |
The change is enormous |
And keepin' up to speed is a real game of endurance |
I always get some lame little office specializing in claims for insurance |
Or maybe the occasional florist |
Corner Florist |
Hello? |
Hello? |
I’m sorry, what’d you say? |
Corner Florist |
Is this a flower shop? |
Yes |
Oh, I’m sorry I think I have the wrong number |
OK, bye |
Bye |
Why am I still searching, and for what I don’t know |
Perhaps a real person or some version of love on the phone |
It’s like these ten little buttons have grown |
So significant, my will’s worthless fighting off the gluttonous jones |
So I chose a different number to try |
And I was thinkin' I’d end up ringing another old guy |
But when I reached the third line what a surprise |
It was the first time in my whole life |
On the telephone my tongue was so tied |
Hello? |
Hello? |
Uh- uh… |
Is there somebody there? |
I can hear you |
It must’ve been something we shared in the weird few moments of rare |
Silence when I was quiet like no one was there |
So unprepared to ever get your voice |
I fell in love though I was scared like I was left no choice |
But you can expect most boys who get a first taste of love in their thirties |
To revert to their seventh birthday |
That’s probably why I went the worst way |
And devised a plan to get to know her with my voice disguised and invented |
surveys: |
«Hello?» |
«Hi, I’m calling from the Census Department |
I was hoping you could answer a few questions of ours, ma’am» |
«Yeah, sure» «How many people live in your apartment? |
What are their ages? |
And by chance is anyone partners?» |
«Well, it’s just me. |
I’m 30 and I’m not married» |
«Alrighty, do you move often, and have your jobs varied?» |
«No, I’ve been here for the last 3 years |
And, my jobs did you say?» |
«Yes ma’am, how many past careers?» |
«Well, I’m not really a people person, I’ve always worked in a lab» |
«Ma'am I don’t blame you with all the jerks that we have |
I take it you don’t get out much to flirt with the lads?» |
«Are you kidding? |
It’s just as well, men are perfectly crass» |
Workin' the plans I had sown to build a rapport |
I realized to have her by phone wouldn’t fulfill me no more |
So using the skills I was born with |
I got her address at home, killin' the calls |
So I could see the best match that I’d known |
Perhaps it was only a sad attempt to find the nerve it would take |
To say goodbye to the phone and tell the girl to her face |
«Well, I won’t put your day further to waste |
Thanks for your time ma’am, sorry to disturb you, ok? |
…bye» |
«Ok… bye» |
Desperate times call for closer measures |
So I left behind the telephone and bought some telephoto lenses |
Parked in a car, like those old detectives I watched from afar |
And saw that she lived by herself alone and friendless |
Then what I noticed next would leave me livid |
Her only guest was a handsome guy whose weekly visits |
Had her cry, by the time he would leave |
I’d bet the guy was an ex or current flame unless my eyes were deceived |
I tried to believe she cried to relieve heartache |
But this guy wouldn’t leave, it seemed she was liable to be in harm’s way |
If I could just sneak in her place I’d find it would lead to a trace |
Of why she would keep lettin' this creep within arms length |
Gettin' the piece was the easy part |
Cause if by chance I met him when I crept in through the window I would need |
the arms |
I was breathin' hard when I stepped in |
Broke the glass into shards with the weapon and tore the bedroom where she |
sleeps apart |
That’s when a creaking part of the floor and a twisting knob on the door |
Startled me — I turned with the gun and shot it before |
I realized I killed my own love |
I dropped on all fours sobbin' and coughin' 'til I spilled my own guts |
I came to still on the rug in the same room |
Filled with the stuff I had tossed around and then I found in plain view |
What seemed to be a diary sittin' beside my knee |
I couldn’t make my mind believe the words that I would finally read: |
Page one: «Thursday: five o' three |
I was trying to sleep before the night shift when this guy woke me |
He had a voice that had a vibe so sweet |
It was caught in my thoughts and just wouldn’t let my mind go free» |
I skipped to page seventy-four and read a bit more |
«The only thing that I look forward to is gettin' his calls |
If only I could get up the gall |
I would tell him I loved h-» I had to skip right to the end of it all |
As for the last passage it began: «Why me? |
Where’s my mystery man, God? |
How could you let this guy leave |
Will all the bad times and depression I’ve seen |
This just has to be the last life’s lesson I need |
In fact this week’s visit with my little brother |
He said if the cancer keeps gettin' worse it’ll kill our mother |
He said the doc' said I should just accept that she’s dying |
And from the second he left, I spent the rest of the week crying» |
Let down, left out |
Sad songs, poems, and lies |
Don’t get your hopes up cause it gets the best of you |
You get stepped on, let down, left out to dry, and you die |