Infidels

We all feel the hand upon our throats
The fools believe what the infidels don’t
Cursed, the rooms I’ve wandered through
The motel beds and the frat parties too
Because I wasn’t there
Gone for some fresh air
Oh you see I sensed success
Failure, love and all the heavy scents
But oh but luck can change
When pushed too hard you make believe
To see something you could never see
Because I wasn’t there
Wishing pools and deeper wells
Guys and dolls and dizzy spells
We all feel the hand upon our throats