Pity

I heard that you fired yourself from your ringside job
You wore the stripes while I beat myself up
I don't want to call you to tell you I don't want to talk
But I have to use the phone
Cause I don't want to walk through anyone's walls

When I've got a heart that's filled with milk
And that milk is going sour
In the posthumous moment that we call now

The blue tube glows with the promise of flight and fun
But what makes me think that there's anything on
There's more satisfaction for me in an average dream
But still I find it hard to turn the thing off
As if I'm breaking the law

Well I've got a heart with a second hand
But it doesn't know the hour
In the posthumous moment that we call now

I have seen your power
I have seen it flower
I have seen it flicker
And I have seen it fade
American made

I want something other than what I have and what I had before
For lack of a better word I want more
I want something other than what I have and what I had before
For lack of a better word I want more
I want more
I want more
I want more
I want more



Credits
Writer(s): Barry Alan Gibb, Robin Hugh Gibb, Maurice Ernest Gibb
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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