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