I don't know whether to laugh or cry

and I don't know whether to live or die

I kept my love for her locked deep inside

it cuts like a knife

she's out of my life

out of my life, out of my hair

out of my mind, there's no love in there

I move on, move on



dear God, I wasn't breast fed

and most of my conversations with men seem to revolve around music

I'm no musician but the pain has been instrumental

my sense finally tune the instruments of - of - of

of being lonely, of being lost, of being loved, of being human

man I could use a metaphor but I can't get beyond this shit

I could use someone to talk to

but most of my conversations with men seem to revolve around music



I am a poet who composes what the world proses

and proses what the world composes



I am a poet who composes what the world proses

and proses what the world composes



damned indescion and cursed pride

I kept my love for her locked deep inside

and I don't know what to do

to get it through to you

get out of my life tonight

get out of my life

out of my life, out of my hair

out of my mind, 'cause no lovin' fair

I move on, move on



she had nothing but time on her hands

silver rings, turquoise stones and purple nails

I rub my thumb across her palm

a featherbed where slept a psalm

yay though I walked, I used to fly, and now we dance

I watch my toenails blacken and walk a deadened trance

'til she woke me with the knife edge of her glance

I have the scars to prove the clock strikes with her hands



and I don't know what to do

to get it through to you

and I don't know what to do

to get it through

out of my life, out of my hair

out of my mind, 'cause no lovin' fair

I move on, move on, I move on