False praise: as good as rope to wide-eyed youth tortured with hope
And all the ghosts that came before all signed the walls of toilet tours
The inkwell’s dry; the stairwell bleeds
Your restless hand’s so hard to read
So let’s arrange a midnight meet with a howling wolf and 5 punk beasts
We are all lonely; we’re all strange
I’m half in love and half deranged for everything I’ve ever thought has already
been thought…
Piano players paid in tips, at downtown bars they’re turning tricks
A smile hid behind your lips
The city slang still makes me sick
We found heaven in a blinking eye
The long dole queue down Denmark St.'s an irony not lost on me
I’ll wear my fancy suit today just to claim my JSA
I’ll be the hand that stills your wrist
Fresh lipstick, lost without a kiss all painted Pepto-Bismol pink
You said I’d be fine… you’re a liar… We found heaven in a blinking eye
And now our future sure looks bleak. Love’s not bespoke so let’s not speak
I’m tired of waiting for my luck to change
We’re still all lonely, we’re still all strange
And you once said that all youth dies
That all youth dies with its hands tied
You kick in the front door as I pick the lock
Young love’s screaming from a soapbox