Can we take the next hour And talk about me Talk about me, and we'll talk about me Talk about me, and we'll only talk about me Can we please take this hour And talk about me And my hatred for corporate magazines You know they don't speak to me The irony os the won't speak with me I placed you on a windowsill Cut notches up and down the door My surprise, I woke up one morn In our bed In your place Lay a note It read: Baby your love It just ain't good enough I found sunlight six hours away You watered me down 'til I drifted abound Somewhere far from your shade Now I shadow my former self Once holy, now lonely A chest full of holes Red wax, it paints me unclear When the big hand strikes twelve I disappear And the angels are fake They'll lie to your face Anything to keep you away You watered me down 'til I drifted abound It's time I accept the fact That you on your back It has buried the past