Either I’m the underdog
or I don’t stand a chance.
I’ll sing my song it won’t take long.
I’ll do my little dance.
I am singing to the exit sign
eyes tight behind the lids
as I think of things, a list of things
I do as love forbids.
I do as love forbids, boys,
I do as love forbids.
-CHORUS
I won’t pull the wool or play the fool.
I can’t pretend to be proper or tall.
There’s only one. She’s gone, oh God,
I’m no good at all!
People tell me, yeah they say
they love the way I write,
but they can’t feel the painful wings,
they only see the flight.
They are not there in the wee hours
when the clock keeps striking one
as I sit and stare and know full well
why my baby’s gone.
Why my baby’s gone, boys,
why my baby’s gone.
–
Every time I try to tie
myself to a makeshift cross
it’s either funny or I make money
either way the point’s just tossed
like a bottle out into the ocean
or hurling often into space.
In the dark, I leave my mark.
It shows no signs of Grace.
Shows no signs of Grace, boys,
shows no signs of Grace.
–