Из альбома: White Bread Blues / Things I Hate to Admit
It's just that little shred of doubt you choose,
That something I left out you use to get your way
Because you say "you didn't spell it out".
Or the simple lack o' proof that makes for a perfect lame excuse
Your nose grows and grows do you suppose I know
You're two quarts low on truth.
It's just that little shred of doubt you choose,
That something I left out you use to get your way
Because you say "you didn't spell it out".
Or the simple lack o' proof that makes for a perfect lame excuse
Your nose grows and grows do you suppose I know
You're two quarts low on truth.
Oh, the things you put me through,
A friendship built on guilt.
To entertain you out of pity,
Just to shut you up.
No there's nothing wrong,
Let's go have some fun.
A smoke to break the ice,
Maybe I'm just too fuckin' nice...
Oh, the things you put me through,
To bring me down to your level.
Just to make things tolerable,
In hopes of something better.
But I don't see the change,
And you don't think it's needed.
So one more lie for the road,
Gee I hate to see you go