Shake and stir yourself into a bad excuse 

a half-hearted fuck you 

imagine all the nowhere places we'd have been 

and all the cynicism aside, and let me try to turn these awful words 

into a cure, not a curse 

and I'm still drawn by the kid in the corner 

and the lovely angels alone on benches 

I'm still making pleas 

to the kid whose clothes don't fit 

who hasn't found himself just yet 

let alone the chance to love 

you cross him off your list 

this shit is piling up head over fist 

while you're, 

while you're, 

while you're making eyes across the room 

while you're making eyes across the room 

while you're making eyes across the room 

while you're making eyes across the room 



x2 

they got caught standing bored by the sidewalk 

they tried to turn the opera into a punk rock stage 

they cut and run at such a tender age