| I heap on feint praise | |
| That's never getting stronger | |
| No matter how much shit I throw | |
| For it is flawed and dangerous | |
| Hollow ringing in my ears | |
| And the bitter aftertaste, like rust | |
| I make the nice, and sidestep | |
| Anything to dance around a fight | |
| I need to say it aloud | |
| That life is short | |
| And days filled | |
| With rictus smiles | |
| Are wasted, and bring | |
| Dishonour on this house | |
| You must never squeeze | |
| The teabag | |
| Leave it alone | |
| What did it ever do to you? | |
| Trying to be al things to all men | |
| You end up being none | |
| So no more hand wringing | |
| No more anything for an easy life | |
| Call it when I see wrong | |
| So when I am done and wheezing | |
| On my last bed | |
| I won't wish I'd done | |
| Something else instead |
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