The moralist on the mountaintop The cap gun cowboy caught playing dress up Patrols his cartoon beat with his costume clothes The damn fool with his ten-top chip His bourgeois blues and his heartbreak habit Slings his lightening bolts, his arrows & stones
Well, you could do it forever It won’t make it better Cause you won’t find your mark You could use a mirror To see your target clearer, All the bad blood that hijacked your heart But you got what you asked for, so don’t even start: You were never a victim. So own what you did, son, admit what you are.
Dead weight in a tightrope trance The pain pill preacher astray in his wasteland Clenched teeth and a canyon he can’t close But there’s me racing right along The jukebox jester, stuck on the same song A mouthful of lies, a head full of holes
Until I got worried And saw the life I could lead If I backed up off that rope And let the ground come to me Steady under my knees I let my anger burn into hope I asked for perspective, and it untied my hands I see the role I played. I chose my own way. I can’t blame you for that.
So when you’re sorry And one day you will be I wish you all the best And hope that you drop softly And it don’t end too badly And your raging head can finally rest And you can be honest and rescue yourself But I’ll walk my own road. I’ll go where you won’t go. You won’t put me through hell. Cause now I see through you. Believe what you need to. Go haunt someone else.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
