score

my lips were sore from brushing my teeth to hard
when i smile it hurts and my eyes strain from sleeping to much
but what really hurts is my left foot
not my heart
or my soul
my fingers
in the cold
its my left foot
thats alway done it for me
score

road

go. Go on, say something
it's been a while, right
when you don't say out
i'm still here listening to your shit
you whine and cry
you were the bloke at the other side of the room
you didn't say much and no one spoke to you
but i saw them look at what you had
it killed me to see it.
we would lie about what you had
made no mistake
if it wasn't for the blood we share
it all
it all
they said it was bad
how can blood be bad?
what had we done?
i use to sit on the road and watch the cars
they would drive round
and you couldn't see the driver
until one day he got out of his car
and stopped
looked around
and pissed on the road


he never drove again