Lyrics

In that half shirt Your head was a bouquet Behind those bloodshot eyes Were legible complaints Watch you slip through Another accident parade Like all parades a waste Of fine Papier-m�ch� Posing idle threats To a sterile life at best As we breakfast on cholesterol To our clogged up heart's content And though our blood screams Too much to ever say Every time you speak My attention drifts away Like some crime scene A prisoner by mistake Forced to watch each time The chalk line gets erased Love your bitter hate And colorblind mans taste Spawn of Satan sports a fake tan And a 29 inch waist Soft tossed blame Damaged saints and a low flying plane Follow bad advice Cross a bridge on borrowed ties And waive the right to break the frame Posing idle threats To a sterile life at best As we breakfast on cholesterol To our clogged up heart's content Love your bitter hate And colorblind mans taste Worn out welcome obligation Difficult to face