| What brought you to this |
| A flightless bird surrounded by red-handed kids |
| In their borrowed black sheeps' clothes |
| Yeah everybody’s in on the joke… |
| So practice your boredom |
| Look a thousand times removed |
| 'Cause only a freak would sing in a crowded waiting room |
| They would turn you out in the cold |
| Now that everybody’s in on the joke… |
| Are you missing a stranger that you might have loved? |
| Do you feel that there’s something you don’t feel enough? |
| There’s a perfectly good poison for the perfectly numb |
| If you want some… |
| But naming the feeling |
| Just kills the charade |
| And if flowers should bloom upon your wallpaper face |
| It’ll follow you everywhere you go |
| Now everybody’s in on the joke |
| Desire only burns and |
| Envy’s always green |
| A mind can only race and a heart can only beat |
| There’s these towering neon signs we must uphold |
| To keep out the blackness |
| And run with the blue |
| Now only a fool would sing as if he’s telling the truth |
| Kid, just swallow down that lump in your throat |
| Because everybody’s in on the joke |
| Are you missing a stranger that you might have loved? |
| Do you feel that there’s something you don’t feel enough? |
| There’s a perfectly good poison… |
| Are you missing a stranger that you might have loved? |
| Do you feel that there’s something you don’t feel enough? |
| There’s a perfectly good poison for the perfectly numb |
| If you want some… |