Let the raining teardrops rain down on me tonight. I think making up, faking up stories is allright. Tick tock stop the clock, fiction is my thing. My attitude is always I and me and mine.
Oh, I'm so clever, until my paranoia kicks in then I'll accuse her of doing all the worst things I do best. It’s funny how me, fucking her about, has got me in this fucking mess. Liar, liar; pants on fire. Lies, alibis, lies more alibis. From the truth, I admit I'm more than shy. Ain't the times we are living in? Everybody’s doing it so why cant I?
I tally up tonight's strangers and stragglers that I've kissed, training ground notches, perfectly executed notches and near misses. It’s all about going out and getting pissed with eagle eyes and sincerity bottom on my list.
What's the story morning glory? I feel so low and worthless.
So this is where the outcome unfurls and the truth is being told. A cloud has gathered over my head and now I know. Infidelity and my good friend ecstasy doesn't work, it makes you worse. I'm feeling so guilty about the things I said to my mum when i was ten years old. I'm feeling so guilty about any old shit. And how I think my missus is fucking every guy that she looks at: This is it, the end was always coming and now its here.
So this is the grande finale, the crescendo of demise, this is the happy ending, where the bad guy goes down and dies.
This is the end. With me on my knees and wondering why. Cross my heart, hope to die. It’s my own cheating heart that makes me cry.
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