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I have this problem where I'm already measuring how you'll reactBefore I even finish what I was gonna sayI dance around my thoughts like they're a fireAnd if I order my steps in just the right sequence I could make it rainAnd it isn't a joke, or some poem I wroteIt's the shadow tracing back to every word I spokeBurn brighter, if you can't fix the house that you were born intoWell, put a match to work and see what fire can doCut cleaner, if the hanging fray causes you to cling to the oldways and means and methods then the knife was too dullAnd so the lesson becomes how you fix a problemCan yield a grimmer consequence than what you kept fromI have found thisI have found thisA full measure shaken down, spilled over was the cup I had drawnTook me one little tumble and the thing was half goneHalf-full is a fool's assessment when the ledger is redAnd the deficit is only ever making aheadAnd though a slow motion spill looks real cool in a filmIn either case the result is typically a messSongtexteI have found thisMy soul held a measure and the ledger was nullMy feet found a dry place to count in the coldIt's all coming due nowI felt my sorrow pulling in on the fabric of daysAll of time bunched up, converging like a senator's bladeAnd my mind raced over all of everything that happened thenBut it halted at the thought of things about to begin'Cause my mind held a ledger and my credits were fullWhen my feet set to walking out all too aloneAnd my heart held a ledger and my credits were fullWhen my feet found a soapbox to stand in the coldNow how about one goes on one's ownSaying "hey babe, this place ain't so cold"Well don't you know, there's only one of yaYou just might end up with pneumoniaAnd about how one might slow one's rollTo an amount down to faking controlWell I guess that would depend on itThe kind of time you want to spend on itStand-offing often pays off, but I am pondering wellMight be stepping down wasn't really so lowWhen my feet found a soapbox to stand in the coldAnd my lungs were fullPraise be to the father foreverWho can take a dead thing and make it greenOnly ever restoringMy soul held a ledger and he paid it in fullWhen my root was a dead snag left in the coldThen the drums kicked inAnd I was spilling out some feverish thingBut the amps were cranked up so loudWell, I didn't think you'd hearHow about them something or others I had seemed to sayWell maybe listen closer and I'll try to sing clearMy tongue held a ledger and my credits were fullWhen my feet found a soapbox to stand in the coldMy tongue held a ledger and my credits were fullConsequences of grandstanding in the coldAnd when it comes to gallows humor it's a slippery slopeYou see you never ask a hangman to show you the ropesI know you meant it as a "ha ha ha"You just might end up with a twiney collarNow about how one goes on one's ownSaying "hey babe, this place ain't so cold"Well don't you know there's only one of yaYou'll only end up with pneumonia Aus Songtexte Mania