twisting knees and brushing thighs
a flash and a wink I am rendered by
doesn't it feel nice to be alive sometimes
morning refuses to reign
looking out on a barren plain
it doesn't feel so nice to be alive sometimes

so go, go on the record and show
you're such a good detective
you always could tell that I was just a shell
and you knew where to unload me
go, it's not conjecture, I know
when the inspector leaves the scene of the crime
there is nothing behind
but a few bullet holes

I can hear inside the walls
shallow lives in flooded stalls
it doesn't feel so nice to be alive sometimes
magazines and fishing wire
all that's left of a crude empire
doesn't it feel nice to be alive sometimes

so go, go on the record and show
you're such a good detective
you always could tell that I was just a shell
and you knew where to unload me
go, it's not conjecture, I know
when the inspector leaves the scene of the crime
there is nothing behind
but a few bullet holes

when the artist decides to quit
the only frame up is getting used to it

so go, go on the record and show
you're such a good collector
you always could tell that I was just a shell
and you knew where to expose me
go, it's not conjecture, I know
when the inspector leaves the scene of the crime
there is nothing behind
but a human totem pole