cry baby, cry
all the world was in front
all the past was behind
and you dropped the ball.
it fell right out of your hand
and for what?
don't say it was for love
because that would be a crying shame.
this life is not a Shakespearean play,
the ebb and flow just isn't here and
there is no rhyme, and there is no reason
and the grammar is bad.
so cry baby, cry
you let everything get to you
you cut off your nose to spite your face
like standing on the tracks to catch the train.
it's such a drag
maybe you should go back home
and leave those fiery, gun powder dreams behind.