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 become 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
 Are coming 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