singin' to no oneabout how i lost the key to your heart
how i tried to get the engine to start
without any kind of workable parts
askin' to slow down
getting in the car to just park
while the parking lot is sure looking stark
and it's just about to get too dark
i don't feel like singin' anymore
no i don't feel like bringin' on
more and more decor
it's a pretty ride besides
even without doors
i'll fall out on my own time, but i
aint gonna sing about it anymore
listenin' to has-beens
make their merry way up the charts
try to tear the loving family apart
without thinking of the common sense smarts
thinkin' i know all
about how to give the characters heart
how can any kind of death be a start?
you call it hopeless baby, i call it art
i don't wanna hear it anymore
no i don't feel like recommending
any final scores
it's a pretty ride inside
all the unused doors
so fall in on your own time, because i
aint gonna hear about it anymore
as the pretty ride resides
on the umpteenth floor
i'll dive up any old time if you
can't wait to hear about it
you won't dance to listen louder
i won't lend myself to doubt it anymore