The Errors

Hand me the heart that rules my tongue
Deflate the air that fills my lungs
Point out the joke that I've become
And clarify the error of my ways

Count the convictions one by one
Criticise the line that I just sung
Why not place the bullet in my gun?
And clarify the error of my ways again

So there's no need for metaphor
Now truth is becoming the last thing on our minds

Now in a room full of ignorance
And the debris of consequence
Eden redesigned

So there's no need for metaphor
Now truth is becoming the last thing on our minds

Now in a room full of ignorance
And the debris of consequence
Eden redesigned

Hate or just post-modern irony?
Thinly veiling the jealously
Failure left behind

Praised as you play to the gallery
Hailed as the saviour of losers deaf and blind