| You do your disappearing act |
| You do your disappearing act |
| Silence, I know I could get used to this |
| Cunning, your sin is something I’m not gonna miss |
| Exile, it’s a small price to pay for bliss |
| Alone, like the painter’s dog without a bone |
| When there’s only one thing you need to own |
| And that is hunger, hunger itself |
| I know you’re (missing) |
| Your (missing) is ripped and it is torn to shreds |
| From all the lovers taken to your beds |
| They’re empty now |
| And you think that you can love |
| And you think that you can love |
| And you think that you can love someone in to love |
| You do your disappearing act |
| You do your disappearing act |
| Jealousy, it’s not what it’s cracked up to be |
| Envy, gets you where you need to be |
| Alone, rather the river than your stepping stones |
| Leave the graveyard before you turn to bones |
| I’m tragic, you’re comedy |
| Oh, baby doll, the dogs are barking, they need to be fed |
| All the lepers you let in your head — is it empty now? |
| Cause you think that can love |
| And you think that you can love |
| And you think that you can love someone into love |
| You do your disappearing act |
| You do your disappearing act |