The Music Was to Blame

There's nothing I can do, I guess

To feel less

Over the weather, feet together

Stuck in the mess

Maybe she's blue, I guess

But if she left

Would there be anything here

Just a dripping sphere, a lonely speck

Oh no, no, no, if you keep on striking matches one day

The splinters in your fingers will turn around and say

Oh you're terrible people

And now you've got no corners left to turn

No matches left to burn

Sweet, sweet, terrible people

You said that when you burned out of your brain

The music was to blame

I'm mad at the world today

'Cause she didn't say

To stop or go or leave me alone

I'm not in the mood

Oh no, no, no, if you keep on striking matches one day

The splinters in your fingers will turn around and say

Oh you're terrible people

And now you've got no corners left to turn

No matches left to burn

Sweet, sweet, terrible people

You said that when you burned out of your brain

The music was to blame

Oh no, no, if you keep on marching tragic in the

International shame

The stupid were to blame

Oh no, no, if you keep on striking matches one day

The splinters in your fingers will turn around and say

Oh you're terrible people

And now you've got no corners left to turn

No matches left to burn

Sweet, sweet, terrible people

I'm saying that when the world gets turned to dust

The music's gonna stop