Too much patience, no resistance,

within in shouting distance, you can hear a blind man's bluff.

dragging names through the mud,

and still bitting his tongue

the devil's in the air and i'm spitting out prayers while the ravenous all eat their fill



tell me, tell me a story,

tell me not to worry, or pick up the phone,

so turning, turning a deaf ear, so that i don't hear, them throwing stone.



too much hog wart, not enough hearsay,

always made the front page, you could use a fine tooth comb,

to get a word from the wise, would be a welcome surprise,

keep an ear to the ground, so to drown out the sound of the failures that make me whole



tell me, tell me a story,

tell me not to worry, or pick up the phone,

so turning, turning a deaf ear, so that i don't hear, them throwing stone.



these walls don't talk, even when somebody knocks,

these walls don't stand, for anyone else but themselves,

these walls don't fall, even when gravity's failing us all



tell me, tell me a story,

tell me not to worry, or pick up the phone,

so turning, turning a deaf ear, so that i don't hear, them throwing stone.