every knob you twist on that machine is like a crutch
ourselves to keep from getting bored? Nothing else is touching that's for sure
But I will watch you play it's just me the bartender the waitress and the lights shining on you not getting it right we clap not for you but for your kind
threatens then backs down the second you put clothes on
I'll still be here when the last poor soul has left the room standing 'round just like a good friend should smiling as if your songs were good
threatens then backs down the second you get clothes on
and I sat there for hours thinking you might like a flower from a pretty girl A ring around the waitress from the verse A ring of fire around the roses' door put it on before you lose your nerve put your hands together and they'll hurt make your sound that no one's ever heard and I hope we get what we deserve