| I was a lover, before this war
|
| Held up in a luxury suite, behind a barricaded door
|
| Now that I’ve cleaned up, gone legit
|
| I can see clearly: round hole
|
| Round whole, square peg don’t fit
|
| I’m locked in my bedroom, so send back the clowns
|
| My clone wears a brown shirt, and I seduce him when there’s no one around
|
| Mano y mano, on a bed of nails
|
| Bring it on like a storm, till I knock the wind out of his sails
|
| And we don’t make eye contact, when we have run-in's in town
|
| Just a barely polite nod, and nervous stares towards the ground
|
| I once joined a priest class, plastic, inert
|
| In a slow dance with commerce
|
| Like a lens up a skirt
|
| And we liked to party
|
| And we kept it live
|
| And we had a three volume tome of contemporary slang
|
| To keep a handle on all this jive
|
| Ennui unbridled, let’s talk to kill the time
|
| How many styles did you cycle through before you were mine?
|
| And it’s been a while since we went wild and that’s all fine
|
| But we’re sleepwalking through this trial
|
| And it’s really a crime it’s really a crime it’s really a crime
|
| It’s really criminal
|
| We’re just busy tempting, like fate’s on the nod
|
| Running on empty, bourbon and god
|
| It’s been a while since we knew the way
|
| And it’s been even longer since our plastic priest class
|
| Had a goddamned thing to say
|
| I was a lover before this war |