Dreamer's Disease

I don’t want to be, I don't want to be a waste.
I don't want to be, I don't want to.
I don't want to be, I don't want to be.
I'm wasted. I’m wasting away.
While I’m out here making history, you’re making love.
To demons with no idea what horns have done.
But I don’t care. No, I don’t care.
I’ll die with a smile so my widow gets jealous.
The ones that observed are the worst story tellers.
And lust is pulling my chair from under me.
Well it seems like the amorous man has,
A prostitute like (sense of) commitment again.
And it feels like my eager hands are,
Searching for that promiscuous skin.
And don’t mock me by existing. My ambition,
Went from handsome as hell straight to ugly as sin.
But, I don’t care. Why should I care?
So fuck making love, see I’d rather make history.
I’d prefer a monument over the kiss of thee.
The world is pulling the rug from under me.
Well it seems like the amorous man has,
A prostitute like (sense of) commitment again.
And it feels like my eager hands are,
Searching for that promiscuous skin.
They say home is where the heart is.
So where do you keep your bed?
And if home is where the heart is,
Then what do I do with this empty chest?
They say home is where the heart is.
So where do you keep your bed?
And if home is where the heart is,
It’s a crying shame we can’t afford the rent.
I’ll stay home where the heart is.
While you better yourself in bed.
You’ll stay out with the hardest piece of him.
Between the both of your legs.
I’d rather be homeless,
Than smelling his scent in our bed.
There’s no such thing as heartache, you idiot.
I’ll stay home where the heart is,
While you better yourself in bed.
There’s no such thing as heartache, you idiot.
It’s all inside of your head.
(Don't you lie to me. No, get out.
Don't you lie to me. Don't you fucking lie to me.)
Well it seems like the amorous man has,
A prostitute like (sense of) commitment again.
And it feels like my eager hands are,
Searching for that promiscuous skin.
How I wasted, away.
How I wasted, away.
Oh, I never known, never known he slept in our bed.
And yet, I am fine.