[ G Major 3/4 time]

Some nights I cant remember
All the things that happened
I never will get over
All the mornings after

How many loves of a lifetime
Walked right out my front door
While I lied-awake hopelessly
Wanting for more

Each notch in my bedpost
Another scar on my heart
Of the ten-thousand maybes
Who turned out to be not

They march right through me
In an endless parade
Insufficient remedies
For someone I cant replace

My pulse is the drum beat
Our love was the war
And their harmonies choke me
As I hang by my
Guitar chords

I keep on playing you
A song written for her
It has a different title now
The contents are undisturbed

Violins whisper
A dull aching pain
And in a hundred "I love yous"
I whispered her name

Each moment of ecstasy
That rips you away
Leaves the empty shell of me
Searching for an escape

But her song keeps playing
A phantom theme in my head
While you reach your crescendo
I'm just here in our bed

My pulse is the drum beat
Our love is the war
And our harmony chokes me
As I hang myself by my

Emptiness chokes me
As I hang myself and I

Suffocate
As I hang by my
Guitar chords

<instrumental - strings bridge>

<modulated harmony and waltz... piano>

<drums and acoustic front + choral vocal overlay "suffocate...">

Her pulse was my drum beat
My love was the cost
Cashed-in in self-sacrifice
It was me that I lost

In mirrors like pictures
I can see who I was
But I look so different now...
I became "I am because"

We shared our heartbeat
Our love was the war
and this song hangs
Something unfinished
I suffocate
Trapped in our tapestry
It's just me
Left to hang by my guitar chords

Its a **** shame that she had such a pretty picture
Cause when we finally met she was such a ***** - Her
Mouth kept running round the clock
She ******* about her life non-stop
I said "girl, I don't care about your ****"
Stuck up privileged little rich girl

Its a shame that shes such a beautiful disaster
Cause her pretty smile wont let anyone walk past her
Pay attention and you'll see
She thinks she's Jackie Kennedy
That stuck-up little *****-girl

Dont waste my time
I dont want to hear it anymore
You hate your dad
And your sick of being bored
Maybe that means something
To somebody else
You think that you're the only one
Looking for a way out

Some day she'll wake up and she'll look in to the mirror
And she will find out that theres no one near her
What do you expect
When all you care about's yourself
But there are some nights that I still miss her...
My privileged little *****-girl.

The bees of the tree of knowledge
Produce a honey so sweet
And so protected in the tree's mortal coils
That any who drink from it
Get diabetes
And scrapes on their knees.

I am not what you expected
A paradox in locomotion
A pendulum marking out its own time
An uninspired
Overachiever
Who refuses to write in words that sound similiar
And I too will leave you wanting

On the streets of Baghdad
Stood a man begging for peace
And honesty
And quiet on the sabbath
And in the wreckage
Of Sunnis and Shiites
And deaf from the bomb blasts
He was finally allowed to have it.

In all our haunted houses
Are ghosts just wrapped in sheets
And the vampires and werewolves
Havent been seen in weeks
We diagnosed the children
Who heard voices in their rooms
Now all they do is paint the walls
In crayola crayon hues
And the monsters under our stairs and beds
Seek refuge in our closets
As we boiled imagination down
To vibrations in quartz deposits