| While we’re on the subject
|
| Could we change the subject now?
|
| I was knocking on your ear’s door
|
| But you were always out
|
| Looking towards the future
|
| We were begging for the past
|
| Well, we knew we had the good things
|
| But those never seemed to last
|
| Oh, please just last
|
| Everyone’s unhappy
|
| Everyone’s ashamed
|
| Well, we all just got caught looking
|
| At somebody else’s page
|
| Well, nothing ever went
|
| Quite exactly as we planned
|
| Our ideas held no water
|
| But we used them like a dam
|
| Oh, and we carried it all so well
|
| As if we got a new position
|
| Oh, and I laugh all the way to Hell
|
| Saying, «Yes, this is a fine promotion»
|
| Oh, and I laugh all the way to Hell
|
| Of course everyone goes crazy
|
| Over such and such and such
|
| We made ourselves a pillar
|
| We just used it as a crutch
|
| We were certainly uncertain
|
| At least, I’m pretty sure I am
|
| Well, we didn’t need the water
|
| But we just built that good-God-dam
|
| Oh, and I know this of myself
|
| I assume as much for other people
|
| Oh, and I know this of myself
|
| We’ve listened more to life’s end-gong than
|
| The sound of life’s sweet bells
|
| Was it ever worth it?
|
| Was there all that much to gain?
|
| Well, we knew we’d missed the boat
|
| And we’d already missed the plane
|
| We didn’t read the invite
|
| We just dance at our own wake
|
| All our favorites were a-playing
|
| So we could shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
|
| Tiny curtain’s open
|
| And we heard the tiny clap of little hands
|
| A tiny man would tell a little joke
|
| And get a tiny laugh from all the folks
|
| Sittin', driftin' around on bubbles, and
|
| Thinkin' it was us that carried them
|
| When we finally got it figured out
|
| That we had truly missed the boat
|
| Oh, and we carried it all so well
|
| As if we got a new position
|
| Oh, and we owned all the tools ourselves
|
| But not the skills to make a shelf with
|
| Oh, what useless tools ourselves |