The disappointed 
All shuffle round in circles 
Their placards look the same 
With a picture and a name 
Of the ones who broke their hearts 

The disappointed 
All congregate at my house 
Their voices sob with grief 
That they want to be chief 
Of the tribe with broken hearts 

Once, I had no sympathy 
For those destroyed and thrown away by love 
Seems, your ring upon my finger 
Signifies that I've [bad word] the spokesman of... 

The disappointed 
Will bear me on their shoulders 
To a secret shadow land 
Where a sombre marching band 
Plays a tune for broken hearts
 
And day grows darker now 
Everywhere, everywhere 

The disappointed 
 [bad word] in their millions 
They're spilling from the bus 
At a monument to us 
Made of bits of broken heart 

The disappointed 
Are growing every second 
They blot the sun to black 
At the bottom of the pack 
I'm the king of broken hearts

The disappointed 
The disappointed 
The disappointed