The final cut
Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyesI can barely define the shape of this moment in timeAnd far from flying high in clear blue skiesI'm spiralling down to the hole in the ground where I hide
If you negotiate the minefield in the driveAnd beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyesAnd if you make it past the shotguns in the hallDial the combination, open the priest holeAnd if I'm in, I'll tell you
There's a kid who had a big hallucinationMaking love to girls in magazinesHe wonders if you're sleeping with your new-found faithCould anybody love him, or is it just a crazy dream?
And if I show you my dark sideWill you still hold me tonight?And if I open my heart to you, show you my weak sideWhat would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?Would you take the children away and leave me aloneAnd smile in reassurance, as you whisper down the phone?Would you send me packingOr would you take me home?
Thought I oughta bare my naked feelingsThought I oughta tear the curtain downI held the blade in trembling handsPrepared to make it, butJust then the phone rangI never had the nerve to make the final cut
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