The Bell Beat

The Brunt Of Our Jokes
Your witty curve, from your hip to your pinkie toe.Can't help but admire the grace, in which you cross the room.You don't have to try it's art, it's kindness, it's thrilling compassion.Because you still have your curvesAnd I still have my admiration.Trying not to cross, those who are crossLittle do they know they're bearing the brunt of our jokes.Without even entering the room.We never demanded anything,We were content with what was given to us.Because you still have your curvesAnd I still have my admiration.Those fuckers, shooting from the hip.Both guns drawn, bullets whizzing by our ears.Tackling little girls smarter than them.Yeah, it's frustrating, but at the same time, so satisfying.Because you still have your curvesAnd I still have my admiration. Aus Songtexte Mania