The Last In A Long Line

Waiting in line for your happy ending

Blinking away the blood from your eyes

And what is the point of being embarrassed?

And what is the point of living a lie?

We're the last in a long line.

We're the last in a long line.

Meanwhile outside the magnolia opens.

Petals are plucked and flung to the floor.

What is the point of sitting in silence?

And what is the point of hiding at all?

We're the last in a long line.

We're the last in a long line.

We're the last in a long line.

The last in a long line.