Put your tears back into your eyes Adjust your hair I am in no mood for theatrics Or fake despair It almost makes me hunger For symbols, signs, and semaphore. Subtle shades of metaphor too ingenious to ignore. Instead of that you sit there and cry, You moan, you lie. You crumple like an old piece of tinfoil You claim you'll die. What the hell possessed me to ever catch a date with you? I should have known that it was wrong To trust the judgment of my schlong. Put your tears back (your tears back), yeah. I hate the way you drool when you talk I hate your clothes. Moses knows his roses and I know It's time to go. Thirty-Something episodes, Forced amusement at your joes. Daisy chains and yogurt stains Sneaking under windowpanes. You think I'm not aware of your script So well rehearsed The close-up camera follows your lipstick Back in your purse. If you were better at it Then maybe we could still be friends, Write and talk and keep in touch As it is I hate your guts! Put your tears back (your tears back) yeah.
Put your tears back into your eyes Adjust your hair I am in no mood for theatrics Or fake despair It almost makes me hunger For symbols, signs, and semaphore. Subtle shades of metaphor too ingenious to ignore. Instead of that you sit there and cry, You moan, you lie. You crumple like an old piece of tinfoil You claim you'll die. What the hell possessed me to ever catch a date with you? I should have known that it was wrong To trust the judgment of my schlong. Put your tears back (your tears back), yeah. I hate the way you drool when you talk I hate your clothes. Moses knows his roses and I know It's time to go. Thirty-Something episodes, Forced amusement at your joes. Daisy chains and yogurt stains Sneaking under windowpanes. You think I'm not aware of your script So well rehearsed The close-up camera follows your lipstick Back in your purse. If you were better at it Then maybe we could still be friends, Write and talk and keep in touch As it is I hate your guts! Put your tears back (your tears back) yeah.
