The Final Cut

Through the fish-eyed lens
Of tear stained eyes
I can barely define
The shape of this moment in time.
And far from flying high
In clear blue skies.
I'm spiralling down
To the hole in the ground where I hide.

If you negotiate
The minefield in the drive,
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold
Electronic eyes.
And if you make it
Past the shotgun in the hall,
Dial the combination, open the priesthole,
And if I'm in I'll tell you
What's behind the wall.

There's a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you're sleeping
With your young found faith.
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream?

And if I show you my dark side,
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side
What would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away
And leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance
As you whisper down the phone?
Would you send me packing?
Or would you take me home?

Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings,
Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands
Prepared to make it but
Just then the phone ring
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.
"Hello? Listen, I think I've got it.
Okay, listen its a Haha!"