too much air
lots of people like to sing their songs
they just don't have an audience
but that doesn't matter, they don't really mind
engorged with ugly flesh and penitence
all i've got is a set of more retarded words
another series of things to make you think about something new
what's-her-name says she can't look at our new home
the walls looking a modestly different shade of blue
but i'm a little covered in the girls i used to love
and their insides make me a little sick but a little comfortable too
it feels a little cold, but there's undeniably a lot of warmth from above
as she's standing tall and walking out to remind me, this is the new you
hey hey hey
i can't think of anything new to say
maybe it's not so bad after all
that the goo of my best friend's eye is stuck in my own
that the real nature of my lover's heart is roughly a pound of grey flesh
or that i'm willing to hold such parts of people close
to remind me everything's okay
to remind me everything's okay
yeah
lots of people like to sing their songs
they just don't have an audience
it doesn't matter, i'm sure they'll be fine
'cause i won't make their lives a part of mine