Blangee Blee (Land of Talk)

You pull it to the right and I bring it back to center I blame it on your pride and you blame it on my temper Standing on the skin of a cell, it was sickle For me it was over, the coroner, the cripple We'd spend our lives making out middles Oh, to give so much got me so little We'd spend our lives making out middles Oh, to give so much got me so little For all that was said, I believe it wasn't spoken You sang it to the wall but the tune, it wasn't holding My guess it wasn't bound to the spine, to the spindle For all I lead you from, I'm the coroner, the cripple We'd spend our lives making out middles Oh, to give so much got me so little We'd spend our lives making out middles Oh, to give so much got me so little We'd spend our lives making out middles Oh, to give so much got me so little