There's a cold rejection of crime That's been fuelled of jealousies and wine And the room is expanding from the heat That pours from my mouth when I speak
How can you be sure? How can you be sure?
Am I painting my life on your walls? And it's not a coming of age I'll be the back row You can be the stage
We sure won't be happy for a while And I'm lost like a rich man's child But the world can compound me by my feet But I'm drawn to the chaos of the streets
Can you take anymore? Can you take anymore?
Are we laying our bodies to war It's not that hard for me to say That I'll be the back row You can be the stage
And the words stain the silence in my head As the distant artist paints the set And I've found the begging of decay Eroding time and change away
But I've been so bored I've been so bored
I've been tracing the lines that she draws And I lost myself in her ways I'll be the back row You can be that sad sad stage