So many songs about heart done wrong,
about lost love’s bitterness.
Jilted Joes wrote your sing-a-longs,
well I dare you to hum to this.
“There are more fish in the sea”
is the only truth for me.
Then my feet get wet, my legs get weak,
I start to sink,
and then I start to think…

I’m goig down down down.
It’s burning in my head.
I’m going down down down
like a hunk of lead.
But it go on on on.
Better dread than dead.
I’m going down down down
from point A to point blank.

All you gearhead funnyboys
switched Spock for Pebbles comps.
You got all the groove and move
of a full-up parking lot.
I never worked on a car,
but I sure know how to screw.
You can keep playing dress up white trash
I’ll stick to being nude,
Urbane and lewd.

What I want to say
I know won’t fit in a song.
It’s hate and sadness
and a faith so long gone.
Keeps me from sleeping nights
or caring about the days.
Then again it’s short as the spot
at the end of this empty phrase.

All the Betty Page pin-ups,
All the silly love songs.
All the cute Satan tattoos
only hold up for so long.
The only thing that lasts for me
dies every day.
Maybe you can make a point,
But at the end you’re at point blank.