Spoken:
If you sit there and think
Who am I?
How did I get here?
What is going to happen when I die?
You can scare the hell out of yourself
For all our science and philosophy
Nobody actually knows what happens
After the last gasp
Where we go? or what we become?
After the last gasp
All of a sudden I find myself hurtling through space
With only the taste of your lips as evidence
That I once battled against your chronic indifference
When we couldn't go the distance, I was left crippled
Dead, sure of the outcome
You lose some, you get thrashed in some
The bruises became uniform, the leather belt worn
I struggle to think of a beastlier beast
Than the beast you became upon crossing swords
With the use of stimulants
Driven only by the herculean desire to fill your body
With anything which helps you forget
It's a body in the first place
Haunted by the uncontrollable urge to have sex
For which I sometimes fear the only cure is castration or murder
But you are still my colditz
I still your truck-stop whore
If this is it? if this is all there is?
I don't wanna play anymore
Beneath a searing bookend
Of the earth's reptilious skin
We painted a Picasso of gore
The rocks below, soften our fall
We take no prisoners, leave nothing, only ghosts
Creeping down the silk road
From the third world to the fucked-up world
Kill everything that moves
Yes I was a fool, and yes you were a fool
But who can name a penny
That has not been in the pocket of a fool
Done something real bad this time
Practically signed my own death warrant
She was staring right at me, burning my eyelashes
(I was sweating like a virgin on death row)
Just the two of us left in this rusty old tub
Neither overjoyed to be out of love
Takes one black cloud to spoil the bright day
I was the black cloud
She was the bright day
Isobelle, remember how it used to feel? (feel, feel, feel)
You and I, and not the screaming animals
With yellow jealous eyes
And not the decoration of the battle last night
When we wake up in the morning
Both at opposite ends
Wake up in the morning
Both at opposite ends
You look so good I want to see
Hundreds and thousands of you
Crawling through the desert
Like a crusade of half-dead blue bottles
Our brains leave their skulls
Walk the tightrope of our rabbit in the headlight stares
Melting together like pink and white marshmallows
Yeah I was a fool, and yes you were a fool
But who can name a penny
That has not been in the pocket of a fool (of a fool, of a fool)
Isobelle, remember how it used to feel? (feel, feel, feel)
You and I and not the screaming
Animals with yellow jealous eyes
And not the decoration of the battle last night
When we wake up in the morning
Both at opposite ends
Wake up in the morning
Both at opposite ends
It's hardly the stuff of legend
I ask the questions
Get down off the broomstick and sweep the floor
Sometimes I think you could be more than just a punch bag with lipstick on
When I'm half-baked, and the red mist is gone
I see you lying there
Wishing it could always be this way
That I could die this day
You always lying there
Me always half-baked
Without a care in the stupid world
Without a stupid world to care about
Isobelle, remember how it used to feel?
Isobelle, Isobelle, remember how it used to feel? (feel, feel, feel, feel) yeah
Opposite Ends (Live At St. Louis) Lyrics performed by The Crimea are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Opposite Ends (Live At St. Louis) Lyrics performed by The Crimea is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD