I charge thou art a fake, thou sulking indie rocker trying to make,
Like you never meant to f**k her and to break;
Her heart to write your song well each Swan Lake
Will leave a princess floating face down in its wake.
I say, its in the grey. Where truth lies in this life and in the day,
Is where you'll see more boogie men come out to play.
You'll see Hitler's water colours light and gay;
The poet beats his wife, oh by the way.
You say to break your heart to write my song is wrong to do,
The song might serve the throng while your heart serves only you.
Its true, you tried your best. Your good intentions paved the way to your success
And all the children of the world are in your nest
But if you'd look up from their mouths you would confess
That your own child fell to ground and is a mess.
Its true, I've been untrue. You held my coat for me as I flitted about the room
And then straight into the lights I up and flew
When I hit the ground I looked around for you
You were gone, I wrote a pretty song or two.
You say to break your heart to write my song is wrong to do
The song might serve the throng while your heart serves only you