I think of you all alone in your lonely room

Your face so pale, your eyes so blue

Your mother gave you pissholes in the snow

Your eyes so pale, your face so blue

Sat down inside on a Friday night with the Devil in a glass for a bedside light

With a patchwork blanket made of pamphlets advertising cheap enhancements

No one home nothing on the box but a box of faces torn from clocks

Your curtains twitch but not from wonder just from wind from broken windows

Inside sends you outside sends you home

Every party, you go alone

Take your brand of semi-pro machismo

Every party, you’re on your own

Outside uptight on a Saturday night with God in your pocket and Jesus in your tights

Count your footsteps one two three four five six seven eight nine ten years you’ve tried

To keep the sadness out of your mind all ruined in a glance at the headline stand

Count your chances ten nine eight seven six five four three two one chances missed

I think of you all alone in your lonely room

Your face so pale, your eyes so blue

Your mother gave you pissholes in the snow

Your eyes so pale, your face so blue