A life lifted off a news page.
A pictorial of you alone in your room,
Fighting off suicide furiously,
With The Astronettes bootleg and a bent-back spoon.
A bus tour through drab poverty;
I came over and you offered me the guest room.
A lie for a single page view,
Courtesy of the assailant who loves you.
Advice for the heartsick clergyman,
Because the bridegroom just ain’t in the mood.
The snake in the grass and the ghost at the feast,
And the jack of all asses and the last of the least
Are all flown, first-class, to the team retreat.
The inventor of anger.
The perfector of being distracted when someone is talking to you,
But just slightly – super slightly.
And she said,
“I don’t care who you are,
Don’t care what you were,
No you can’t look away from the Shock Corridor.
I don’t care who you are,
Don’t care what you were,
Don’t you try to look away from the Shock Corridor.
I don’t care who you are,
Don’t care what you were,
You can’t look away from the Shock Corridor.
So punch the day in the face and charge through a haze of gorse.
Behind you, your own mother’s living ghost tears her hair out.
It’s freedom – don’t you want it?
Punch the day in the face and charge through a haze of gorse.
Behind you, your own mother’s living ghost tears her hair out.
It’s freedom – don’t you want it?
A light haze of rain, dark-flecks, the grey slate.
The actor can’t escape from his cold oval.
Blazed-out hours, rolling, cold and sober.
“I don’t care who you are,
Don’t care what you were,
You can’t look away from the Shock Corridor.â€
When there was nothing left to talk about,
We talked specifically about a white-hot penny
Plunging through the concrete
And hissing into that buried river,
Or cutting into the earth’s red-hot sobbing heart.
And I’m sorry I was a shit.
I didn’t know why I was doing it.
I’m not needed, and why would you really want to hear my voice even?
‘Cause I’m the light from a star that deserved to implode,
And did, six million years ago.
I’m the light from a star that deserved to implode,
And did, six million years ago.
I’m the faded Orange Crush can in the woods,
And the kid who tossed it's now going through his third divorce.
I used to lie back in my teenage bed and feel love
So much heart-busting love
Just this surge of love, this surge of love
For everything, everything, everything…
I used to lie back in my teenage bed and feel love
So much heart-busting love
Just this surge of love, this surge of love
For everything, everything, everything…
Now I lie on my couch with my brains bashed out
And my tools and my toys all lying around,
And I wish I could feel that way about
Really anything, anything, anything, anything, anything…
Yeah, but still, she says,
“I don’t care what you are
Or care what you were,
You can’t get away from the Shock Corridor.
I don’t care what you are
Or care what you were,
You can’t get away from the Shock Corridor.