Pity

I heard that you fired yourself from your ringside job
 You wore the stripes while I beat myself up
 I don't want to call you to tell you I don't want to talk
 But I have to use the phone
 Cause I don't want to walk through anyone's walls
 When I've got a heart that's filled with milk
 And that milk is going sour
 In the posthumous moment that we call now
 The blue tube glows with the promise of flight and fun
 But what makes me think that there's anything on
 There's more satisfaction for me in an average dream
 But still I find it hard to turn the thing off
 As if I'm breaking the law
 Well I've got a heart with a second hand
 But it doesn't know the hour
 In the posthumous moment that we call now
 I have seen your power
 I have seen it flower
 I have seen it flicker
 And I have seen it fade
 American made
 I want something other than what I have and what I had before
 For lack of a better word I want more
 I want something other than what I have and what I had before
 For lack of a better word I want more
 I want more
 I want more
 I want more
 I want more