"Under Glass" lyrics
"Shut up. Stop what you're doing", she said. "I'll give you the world once you let me inside your head." And the world revolved.
(As it always does.)
She said, "Hey, look I'm over here!" And it took me, it seemed,
a year, to realize that that look in her eyes was one of suicide.
She was standing on a bridge and I cried (and screamed and yelled), "Don't do it! Don't do it."
As her warm body struck the icey waters below, the sound seemed so loud, as if to shatter my eardrums. But I knew it was just shock.
I knew it was just shock.
My mind raced through thoughts of isolation - of being alone and of being...with others. I mean, is it normal to think that I wouldn't want to be with anyone else? Or is it normal to think that I want to fuck everyone else? How about you? Ya. How about you? What do you think?
She was a clumsy girl, dropping names like acid and clinging to the social ladder's rungs, one by one. She was the kind of girl guys like me write songs about. That echo inside my head like an old squeeky bed. She was a bombshell - just waiting to go off. Waiting to get off. Ya.
So here I am, standing there, looking at the world under my twisted little microscope. Pressing my freaky little eye against the fucked up lens. Searching for this means to an end. I'm trying to figure out what went wrong such a short time ago. I mean, it seemed like things were going fine. I don't know. Maybe we just didn't care enough. Or maybe we just cared a little too late. It was all so easily within our grasp, yet we let it slip right through our needy, self-absorbed, "gimme-all-you-got-now, get-it-while-I'm-greedy" hands. The "take-it-while-I-can-now, stick-it-to-a-generation," kindergarden-imitation, monkey-see, monkey-do...did you? How she'll miss the trees, the flowers and the breeze - even miss the bees, honey. I remember when our house felt like home and all the people and places we've known. Look at the world under glass. The world under glass. World...now...shattered glass.
And now, it's over. There's no stopping things now. I'm swingin', swingin' from the brass ring. Can't stop swingin' from this crazy thing. Partying with Josephine, Jesus, Judas, and the King.
©1994, 1995, 1997 Cycle Bubble
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