Pulls back the curtains,
Reveal the first scenery
And leave the acting to interpretation.
We have them on the edge of every last wish,
And we can strike with the flick of the wrist.

The room divided,
To admire in silence.
The messages all sound a little different
And emotion, it corrupts the bargain.
Shall we go to intermission?
That’s where the most opinionated guns
plan their arrival.

And I may be done,
But you’ve never been more wrong.
Don’t you think it’s odd,
We throw away all the cards
We were meaning to play?

Pulls back the story,
And they are still listening.
You glide across the stage
Directly speaking to them,
And no one’s phased
By what you call common sense,
But they are blinded by the shine of your dress.

And I may be done,
But you’ve never been more wrong.
Don’t you think it’s odd,
We throw away all the cards
We were meaning to play?

I may be alone,
But it isn’t all your fault.
Don’t you think it’s wrong
We do believe all the songs we wish so badly to sing?