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 slowdance 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
Printer Friendly Version
