Head nor Tail

Nothing that you say makes any sense, I wonder if thereīs any intelligence,
you live in virtual reality, itīs a miracle you even exist for me,
  & I canīt make head nor tail of this
  I should know better but I canīt resist

You meet me on the street, but you walk on by, you give me hard looks that could petrify
Step by step, then in leaps & bounds, I used to be your fool now Iīm your clown
  & I canīt make head nor tail of this
  I should know better but I canīt resist

On my wall thereīs a painting I made of you
itīs a dark kind of abstract with passe-partout,
Itīs a hologram that follows me around
this padded room that swallows up sound

& you treat me like dirt when it suits you to If I lived in the US I would probably sue
The only time youīll be satisfied is when youīve ripped out my heart & watched it die 
       & here I pace these floors constantly
       I wish your eyes would stop picking on me
       I bang my head in time to our favourite tune
       but thereīs no room service in this padded room...
  & I canīt make head nor tail of this
  I should know better but I canīt resist

Words: Herbie Parkin
Music: Phil Etheridge

Copyright 1992 Room Service Music
Used by kind permission