It may been the gunter grass
could have been the seventeen drinks
but I kept thinking that I still loved you,
the mind is a dangerous thing
I'm now sixteen miles from texas
twelve hundred from home
and I'm still stuck with you on the mind
I can't run away and I can't stay inside
it coming up to ten years
and i know i can't go back
too many bridges blown up
too much spent on psychology
I know all the answers
and now to walk away
this is just a personal lament
an inside joke
the of the head fuck.
the of the head fuck.