The Errors

Hand me the heart that rules my tongue Deflate the air that fills my lungs Point out the joke that I've become And clarify the error of my ways Count the convictions one by one Criticise the line that I just sung Why not place the bullet in my gun? And clarify the error of my ways again So there's no need for metaphor Now truth is becoming the last thing on our minds Now in a room full of ignorance And the debris of consequence Eden redesigned So there's no need for metaphor Now truth is becoming the last thing on our minds Now in a room full of ignorance And the debris of consequence Eden redesigned Hate or just post-modern irony? Thinly veiling the jealously Failure left behind Praised as you play to the gallery Hailed as the saviour of losers deaf and blind