Glory

I'm sitting in the dark of my room
strumming songs of solitude.
But I'm tired as hell,
dropping pennies in my wishing well.
Wishing, well, mostly for change.

And I'm tired of everyone.
But you're not done,
till you're done.
And I'm picking the callouses
on my fingers,
disregarding the dangers
of procrastination.


::distortion::
But I remember when,
when wasn't just a story.
But now then comes strutting by,
nose stuck up in his glory.
::end distotion::

Beauty starts to look ugly
when you look at it
too long.
And more and more these tunes are turning in
to the same sad song.
It's like,
when you say the same word,
again and again and again and again
It's like,
slidding in
on the rag,
cramped up and bleeding

::distortion::
But I remember when,
when wasn't just a story.
But now, then comes strutting by,
nose stuck up in his glory.
In his glory.
In his glory.
hey yeah yeah
In his glory.
::end distortion::

And you start to get ugly
when you're with me too long.
And more and more you're sneaking into
each one of my songs.
You're like
saying the same word,
again and again and again and again
You're like
that feeling I get,
when i'm cramped up and bleeding.

But I remember when,
when wasn't just a story.
and now, you come strutting by,
nose stuck up in your glory.


It's your glory...