The Art Of Whore Testo

Testo The Art Of Whore

I was here before these hangers on
And I'll still be here when you lose 'em
We've seen it once, we've seen it before
Building confidences with razors

Your swelling head, blacks out the sun
The more you speak, the more I go numb
It goes on and on like a painful sitcom
I'm sorry sir, are you ready for your close-up?
Your ego's fed, my face is red, I gotta get out

All this limelight, it's burning up your sight
And I'm afraid you no longer see it
Handed the life you want, you chose to respond
With nothing but complaints
That's not a life, it's a fucking cliche

Forget the people who have brought you here
Forget the places you came from
I recognize that the walls are closing in
And I have never walked in your shoes

Can't get back to the start
Yeah it hurts sometimes, it kinda breaks my heart
Try to find something to say but the words don't fit
I stood there awkwardly
While you let people act like you just parted the sea
I wanna set it straight
The words don't fit, I wonder if they ever will
Can we get back to where we began?
Do I really even give a damn?