Blangee Blee

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 spend our lives making out riddles
Oh, to give so much got me so little
We spend our lives making out riddles
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 led you from, I’m the coroner, the cripple
We spend our lives making out riddles
Oh, to give so much got me so little
We spend our lives making out riddles
Oh, to give so much got me so little
We spend our lives making out riddles
Oh, to give so much got me so little