I've understated my phrenology.
It seems my head is far too wicked for this ride.
If I had your name, I'd wear it right 'round my neck so I could vindicate an
anti-social suicide.
And if you're bored of me then I have met the mark: another bipedal freak
cutting the future from his hands.
I like your world, you search for knowledge yet, you're learning how to
forget and forgetting how to understand.
My heroes all lied to me. Lied and lied again. My heroes have all worn
their welcomes out, they lied to me, lied to me.
I'll never be a hero oh oh oh oh oh uh oh oh.
How can you ever say I've ever said enough?
Or sold a soul to select a new vision for re-visioning?
See, I'm the real McCoy: an empty vessel that never sleeps. You'll find that
I work much better when I have been suffering.
And if you're bored of me then I have raised the bar, a little too high, a
little too high to wrap your head around.
I like your world, it's full of fragile facts. At least they're easily replaced
when easier reasoning is found.
My heroes all lied to me. Lied and lied again. My heroes have all worn
their welcomes out, they lied to me, lied to me.
I'll never be a hero oh oh oh oh oh uh oh oh.
I'll be forgotten.
You don't mind me? Well I suppose you did. A grinning groveling buffoon.
Teacher teach me how to live. And when I wear you out. What will you
wear for me? Nothing at all.
My heroes are dead dead dead dead.
Cool you: my god; I'd make you see, one violent word. One violent me. I
kiss your lips. I stole your voice and now you know.
I'll never be a hero
