Lyrics
The tail of your plane dissapears in a cloud
will I see you again or have I lost you now?
I tear all my clothes, dress in sackcloth and ash
until I look in the mirror to see the repeating past
I hope against hope for a new frame of mind
all this hanging on fate is wasting my time
I'm the product of choice, the result of fear
I could have chosen to tell you that I wanted you near
but sunday meets sunday meets the changing of years
now every piece fits and everything's clear
they tallied the votes and the winner was made known
then the crowds marched in protest to a constant drone
it's not the whiskey that gets us, it's the desire that kills
leaves a hole in my reason that nothing quite fills
I need some composure, I need to laugh at myself
drink straight from the bottle as a toast to your health
cos I know no one needs me
and I need no one
but the way that she moves makes my fever run
then a synapse in my brain fires a shot down the drain
and it all starts again
history's dead, though its books are well read
yet it all starts again
