About as subtle as an earthquake I know,
My mistakes were made for you
And in the backroom of a bad dream she came
And whisked me away enthused
And it s as solid as a rock rolling down a hill,
The fact is that it probably will hit something
On the hazardous terrain
And we re just following the flock around
And in-between,
Before we re smashed to smithereens
Like they were
Then we scramble from the blame
And it, the fame that put words in her mouth,
She couldn t help but spit them out,
Innocence and arrogance entwined,
In the filthiest of minds.
She was bitten on her birthday and now,
face in the crowd she s not
And I suspect that now forever the shape she
Came to escape is forgot.
And it s a lot to ask her not to sting and give
Her less than everything,
Around your crooked conscience she will wind.