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you're like a critic/who wasn't sent a presskit you can't conceive of anything to write you're like a trained dog/who wasn't fed a biscuit you won't perform for anyone tonight you say you're lonely/but you won't let me visit you say you're wounded/but you won't let me kiss it but I can see/what you want from me by the way your eyebrows arch but I'd rather have it watered down than thickened up with cornstarch you're like psychic/who says the future's cloudy Songtexteyou can't predict how all of this will end you do a highkick/you hug me and say howdy I'm not convinced that you're fit to be my friend you say you're weary/and all your sleep is fretful you say you're sorry/but you don't look regretful and I can tell/there's a parallel between soldiers on the march as they overrun some border town and the way you feed me... who gets the backlash without all the hype going straight from green to overripe? you can fix me forever in your movable type I would shout for assistance but you're flooding my windpipe with cornstarch you're on your knees/in your powder-blue pajamas I'm making scenes/you're constructing dioramas as you rehydrate/all your tears of hate from their former state/as a concentrate so the flavor's not so harsh do you like your gravy rich and brown and thickened up with cornstarch? Aus Songtexte Mania