Caustic Soda Up Against The Fault
No call this morning, no sleep at all.
Not getting any answers searching through telephones.
Oh absence, take form. Half cold in a king size dawn.
Breaking still despite the holding on.
Someone tell me, what am I doing wrong?
Clothes I can throw away,
hair I can cut, strip or stain.
Moods I promise to turn like corners
and get out of my own way
but on what chance can this stand?
With that, half a heart in some desperate plan
I don't know who it is I'm up against.
Someone tell me, where am I going wrong?
You're keeping me close and against and I think to a
fault.
Each blazing morning, burns a little slow.
Is there something needs telling?
Some good that I'm not doing?
Provide some helpful point upon which I could fall
or don't suggest anything.
It's probably nothing,
it's nothing if no one can see that there's anything
wrong.
Someone tell me, what am I doing wrong?
Someone tell me, what am I doing wrong?
Someone tell me, what am I doing wrong?
