Its here I sit and rust amid this ruin and rancor like tire irons
toothy grills and car parts before me. . .the acid rain floods my
floorboard, burns my pores and rots my upholstery. . .once I was
worshipped, polished magnificently, now I lay in decay by the dirty
angry bay. . .

I'm ready to leave
I wanna get out of here
I'm ready to ride away
I don't wanna die in here
I'm ready to ride. . .

Instrumental

Instrumental

she wouldn't need to be a bird without a wing
or be a servant to a telephone ring
she could be sleeping in the comfort of another bed
it wouldn't matter to a man with an open heart
here comes right now...

she could be moody, dramatic as a play
or be evasive as a shadow in the shade
could be irregular and singing in her underwear...
it wouldn't matter to a man with an open heart

Look at the signs
Look at the symptoms
Look at the slight
Calm before the storm
I feel the silence
I feel the signals
I feel the strain
Tension in my head
Well, what more can be said. . .

Not a model man
Not a saviour or a saint
Imperfect in a word
Make no mistake
But I
Give you everything I have
Take me as I am. . .

Instrumental

Instrumental

in the dream I fall into the sleepless sea
with a swell of panic and pain
my veins are aching for the distant reef
in the crush of emotional waves...

alright, get a hold of yourself
an' don't fight it, it's over your head
it's alright, the rumble in your ears
it's alright to feel a little fear
an' don't fight it, it's over your head
it's alright, you wake up in your bed...

She is susceptible
He is impossible
They have their cross to share
Three of a perfect pair. . .
He has his contradicting views
She has her cyclothymic moods
They make a study in despair
Three of a perfect pair

One, one too many
Schizophrenic tendencies
Keeps it complicated
Keeps it aggravated
And full of this hopelessness
What a perfect mess. . .