| I swear this night to reclaim all that’s mine
|
| My promise tears on my zit-covered pride
|
| It comes with the years of living with the skin
|
| Of a blind-alley fool
|
| But in so many ways I thought I was like you
|
| With your kitchen-knife tongue
|
| Yes, I’ve been there
|
| Hips! |
| Lips! |
| And fingertips!
|
| Where all slough breaks in half
|
| Old aldies smoke and learn to cackle
|
| While the devil sits and laughs
|
| Well no fags for the hags
|
| And no more time to be wicked
|
| Come round to your soul
|
| Yes, I’ve been there
|
| You made my day
|
| Then it fell to the ground
|
| So if this is skin
|
| Then I submit to you
|
| Well there once was a queen
|
| Who ate that man as if he were chicken
|
| But it was all in a dream
|
| Yes, I’ve been there
|
| I woke up half dead
|
| Fear and frogs ate the flesh off my bones
|
| Alive in a fridge
|
| Yes, I’ve been there
|
| I love the ache
|
| So don’t say that Dallas doesn’t love you
|
| Come round to your soul
|
| Yes, I’ve been there
|
| My romance left here
|
| So make no mistake when you call me brother
|
| Alive in a fridge
|
| Yes, I’ve been there
|
| You were vaccuous and I was cruel
|
| And losers don’t hurt when your dreams hold them down
|
| Come round to your soul
|
| Yes, I’ve been there |