Two grown, little men stuck in one simple girl
Who is lost and confused in her own little world
And lies to keep them both as the truth unfurls
To their clueless minds that are thrown in a whirl.
She has a mind that is empty except for one thing:
The vain, idle thoughts to which she must cling
To not hurt a fool whose always holding a map
Upside-down and with big holes on his lap.
He looks around for the pity of someone who'll clap
As he folds it back up and starts to feel trapped.
Her rotten, fickle heart that is full of deceit
Can't decide which one of the fools to keep
So she lies in every way, form and fashion
And its as Sartre says: " Man is a useless passion."
Who is weaker and dumber? Its hard to tell
Is it one boy who clings to a harlot like he's in a spell?
Or is it the one that knows she's a good liar
And can feel in her lips what she really desires?
She doesn't care if anyone is thrown from the choir
And if her conscience hurts she'll just get higher
To ignore every drop of blood she draws from her mimes
And whoever else she loves at that point in time.
She sends the pawns marching to their heart's desire
And they roll to their deaths like rubber tires
To explode and be left out like socks in the dryer
And its too late now to realize they've been set on fire.
