Glasswork shards decorate this house
We're tossing lost arts out windows
The splash and jangle of a secret science defined
You claim some golden age is upon us

You always loved short story form:
The science behind it, the hidden verse
You live for flame, your re-attraction's new
The leather's pulled from a secret room

Close that stare into morning sun
When the dots form into connections
If I'm honest, you come to mind
But baby, I'm not

If I'm honest, you come to mind
But baby, I'm not

The impacts pound dust into working script
We stare in wonder at the steps we skipped
Tripping wires we have so carefully crossed
The science behind it at a perfect loss

You're my Lord, you're my Shepherd
Careful, kid, no one gets hurt
You made me

It's a pal of the French we took
The science behind it was a dirty look
Seul joue pas de rock 'n' roll [French speakers feel free to correct this]
Seul joue pas de rock 'n' roll pour moi [and this, too]

You're my Lord, you're my Shepherd
Careful, kid, no one gets hurt
You made me
You made me this way

Try to fail

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): CARL ALLAN NEWMAN