Your Sympathy
Running out of breathChasing down the big parade, oh, ohRising up my handThought I'd beg the marching band to play, for meAll of these illusions they really mean the world to me, me
Don't make me out to beThis helpless child of misery,Maybe love is what I needBut not your sympathy
In and out of spaceI'm always somewhere in between, oh, ohI try to make commandsBut instead I make a mess of things, for meI try to paint by numbersBut nothing's black and white for me
Don't make me out to beThis helpless child of misery,Maybe love is what I needBut not your sympathy
Nothing and no one can make your lies the truthAnd no one can stand inside your shoes, but you
Don't make me out to beThis helpless child of misery,Maybe love is what I needBut not your sympathy
But not your sympathy.