Roll over, Beethoven Turn out that light I'm tired of your rhythm and blues Just for one night Yes you were chosen So give it a rest Well I would talk to you but You're going deaf
I'm making movements to the door I just can't give my consent to settle your score It's, it's post modern It's, it's after the war with all that Vintage wine and cheese On your bedroom floor I'm getting tired of discussing the poetry of your second act I switch on the TV 'cause I can't stand to look at you
Who gives you permission To accuse me I know they've commissioned Your latest symphony Well I'd love to hear it played I love to hear it all Well all those flowing lines So neo-classical
We're making money at the door I just can't give my consent to settle your score It's, it's post modern It's, it's after the war with all that Vintage wine and cheese On your bedroom floor I'm getting Tired of discussing the poetry of your second act Psychoanalyzing just how I react to your Your latest creation it's Delusional grandeur So switch on the TV 'cause I can't stand to look at you
In your face there's a requiem Not the hint of dissipation We've been over where you've been Turns out you're just looking for a little divine Inspiration
But it, it's post modern It's, it's after the war with all that Vintage wine and cheese On your bedroom floor I'm getting Tired of discussing the poetry of your second act Psychoanalyzing just how I react to your Your latest creation it's Delusional grandeur So switch on the TV 'cause I can't stand to look at you I can't stand to look at you I can't stand to look at you Can't stand to look at you I can't stand to look at you
This meeting's been ajourned We haven't gotten anywhere No more lessons to be learned After all these years It's just a rock overturned To identify what wasn't shared The salt of the earth Or it's dirty children's tears
CHORUS: So smile for the camera (hand shaking for the front cover) Make sure you capture the good side of the... (breathtaking for a last supper there are no party favors when Everyone feels they're the...) Savior, they're the Savior
Read it in the headlines Plastered on the front page Read it in the fine print Where the concrete vows are made Another rock overturned One more world to our surprise Same old stone to be thrown At the ideal compromise
CHORUS Bridge: Too much history in the holding cell Too much memory in a lingering scent When the holy land's a living hell With a wide open vent It's never safe to assume You could ever rid yourself of her perfume
Well let's stop pretending This is not a nerve ending We've touched on before Like a delicate dancefloor When what was once exciting Has now gone out the window Kicking and biting Like a decrepit dog of war That has wits about him Too determined to implore Too deluded to ask for That hand that let him out the front door
This side of the phone line It's a reflex to rewind When the context is a confine No matter what you say You're an answering machine
This side of the phone line It's a reflex to rewind When the context is a confine No matter what you say You're an answering machine
Well now you're in trouble You believe you're seeing double Those nightstand eyes and pillow fury I hate to burst your bubble But this humiliation it's cracked your (?skin name?) Timing frustration with a face-full of strain
While squinting at the poetry And all the words in the night Keeping the light off The mirror where the pages lie
This side of the phone line It's a reflex to rewind When the context is a confine No matter what you say You're an answering machine
This side of the phone line It's a reflex to rewind When the context is a confine No matter what you say You're an answering machine
Let's stop flashing this madness To accompany the thunder Hey the hissing sound of sadness But remember I have your number
This side of the phone line It's a reflex to rewind When the context is a confine No matter what you say You're an answering machine
This side of the phone line It's a reflex to rewind When the context is a confine No matter what you say You're an answering machine x3
Yeah yeah La la la la, lalalalalalala Yeah yeah La la la la, lalalalalalala
but every time I feel that way I laugh out loud uneasily We tremble in quiet dismay then we dance to the tempo that pleases me
Chorus I tapped out time on a bottle of rhyme I watched you side-step across the thin-laced line Both foot for foot, both fake with the feel Two forgotten myths, both Achilles heels So how can I say So how can I ever run away
I guess I'm fortunate That you're still by my side I guess I'm fortunate That we have nothing more to hide
But everytime you see me smile You think I'm paying you a lip service that expression only lasts for a while So we sing in the keys that suit me best
Chorus
I guess I'm fortunate That we know what we now know I guess I'm fortunate That we know how this old song goes
