| You opened your eyes again to a throb
|
| That was better than the night before
|
| The vague recollection of punches or dancing
|
| Or ending up curled on the floor
|
| And you got the scars and stitches to prove it
|
| And you got the bruises to prove it too
|
| Well, you got a taste for the heady, heady
|
| You gotta do what you’re supposed to do
|
| Still that’s better than a torn up heart
|
| It’s still better than a torn up heart
|
| And only some hours 'til you do it again
|
| 'Til the night goes and holds in on you
|
| And the glow of the lights makes the hue of their skin
|
| Somewhere between bile and glue
|
| And you got the mussed up hair to prove it
|
| You got the teeth to prove it too
|
| Well, you got a taste for the heady, heady
|
| And you got the aches and the tired too
|
| But that’s better than a torn up heart
|
| It’s still better than a torn up heart
|
| That’s still better than a torn up heart
|
| It’s still better than a torn up heart |