i'm so sick of having hope

pushing the envelope

with empty threats and false teeth

my drink's been poured by a cannibal

and my corpse ain't even cold

and you want to take it away from me



i know you'll take the blue ribbon

i shop myself with the starting gun



you're more cop than speeder

hitting onthe waiter

and eating off the plate of the enemy

but i'd rather just forget about the jerking in my sleep

and the hollow words under me



but i've got second thoughts again

second thoughts again

or am i second guessing

or just in second place?



i've got a one year old hangover

feels like i never will recover

but i can keep a poker face

for the rest of the chase