I didn't mean to audit every detail of your work

But you cut in line to entertain the fools

And it's a tragic way to get by and it's starting to slide

Certainly I'd try getting rid of the motto:

Steady fingers holding hands

Steady fingers holding hands

Why is it you're not around? How come you're not at home?

It's Sunday three o' clock pm ideal time for being alone

Oh nothing can take my childhood away

Oh no no no (this is starting to aggravate us all)

I don't want to intrude

But this is my home

I guess you're on your own

Cloud nine

Always I the expert 'til this morning

As I'm standing across the courtyard with a view the size of Alaska

It's the grand convention of pda

About this time they're on their way

To the brink of salvation so hard to convey

It's then I started going wrong wrong wrong wrong

I don't want to intrude

But this is my home

I guess you're on your own

Cloud nine