It's to much to believe.
Only speaks in similes.
But, in the end we'll come to see it's obsolete.
Puts the practice into trials.
Makes endeavors all worthwhile.
But, whether winnings glorified, idecide.
Idecide, Idecide, Idecide
We're making friends with matrys, who make their enemies, with themselves.
They'll take what they need and then give you back some;
Just enough to get by,
Enough sting to be stung,
Enough poison to choke,
Enough rope to be hung.
Have mercy on me for I'll not give up;
Eternally down on my luck.
Words wear no disguise when idecide.
Idecide, Idecide
We're aching from the pressure,
All angles and all asides.
The waitings not the anguish,
Its the ride.
Let me know if you don't think you'll make the team.
So it goes making love is never what it seems.