The razor in your apple, the affection of your glove
The prison of your company, the snake oil of your love
The leash by which you drag me, the heights that hurl your scorn
The trumpets play the livelong day, but they blow so forlorn.

Did you hold the hand that held me down?
Did you laugh at my expense?
When there's rust upon your ragged crown
Who will stand at your defense?

When I unveiled my weakness on your rodeo of tears
You stood there so vacantly, your fingers in your ears
And you left by the morning with all that's left to steal.
But every time you say farewell, there's breadcrumbs at your heels.

Did you kiss that held me down?
Was your kindness just pretense?
When there's no one left for you to clown,
Who will stand at your defense?

But it's ashes, Lord, it's ashes. Why must we all fall down?
You take your place among the saints, make not a single sound.
And on the hills that held our childhood, the flowers they grow still.
You lay beneath them pushing weeds and I guess you always will.

Could you be the hand that held me down?
When I was sick with common sense
Seems your statuettes are all torn down
Seems your innocence is spent
And ever since your epitaph was splattered on my wall
No one comes to call, they can't stand the stench
But I still sing your praises every time the curtain calls.
The burden on me falls
Yes I alone stand at your defense!

See also:
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