So the hours
inside your house slow
and you go from time
to less time.
And you’ve never felt
as insincere
as you do now.
So you put on a record,
and turn it off
because nothing fits
and the respite you get
won’t come easy now,
won’t come easy now.
Where are the answers you had?
Where are the faces you know?
Where are the books that you quote?
Where are the places you go?
Where is the time that you saved?
Where are the people who said
that they’d always be by your side?
Where have they all gone now,
now that you need them?
Your good will
won’t keep you clean.
Your talent
won’t keep you clean.
Your love
won’t keep you clean.
Your love
doesn’t mean a thing
when all that you’re left with
is your rage and your
your powerlessness
and your love.
Oooo You’re left with your love.