its music man somethings up i think we might be breaking up
i dont get held no more and i feel their heart is shut
secrets from eachother outnumber those to everybody
makes me feel shame, humiliated, yeah they caught me
a cuckhold, seeing someone else its no surprize
i have eyes, i would still be here if i was blind but
part of me has hardened see a trilogy of stockholm syndrome
on the stage, my social circle, and the nights all home alone
i pen tommes and odes, cant raise above the courtly love
the fickle flirtations and the fights might have had enough
promises of futures i forsook my limitations
the situations gestating in afformentioned humiliation
the passion is gone, perspire trying to relight fires
those i admire and squire for are looking just as tired
and i used to be so stoic, proud of my patience
we want to do so much but i lack inspiration

No! This house is no longer a home
The energy, the spark, the muse has left me alone
whispering pillow talk in another lovers ear
but it wasnt so long ago that i was that lover
with a taste for lips, that promised so much more
a heaven sent whore, i paid knows the lord
a taste, in fact, was besotted with a gaze
we made a home together but this house is not a home these days

Wasnt good enough, thought i was just rough around the edges
still a diamond trying with the task of climbing fences
to a greener grass a grass that lasts and sustains
holds me in its pastures bussom warm and gives me fame
but no longer singing sonnets, mumbling doubts instead
no cred i dred the day, when you leave well enough alone
and no longer offer catharsis, i tried hardest i feel
i pay my dues anyway you see fit, some times i lose
and thats ok, a little loss, a little closer to the win
my goals are modest and all, but they leave me too slim
anorexic with the glory, my story gets no sympathy
coz when your on the outside you want to be in here with me
thats part of the appeal, with zeal, i play the rockstar
just try hard and you can get this far
but what ive failed to mention, what causes all the tension
is that this isnt very far at all, not at all


No! This house is no longer a home
The energy, the spark, the muse has left me alone
whispering pillow talk in another lovers ear
but it wasnt so long ago that i was that lover
with a taste for lips, that promised so much more
a heaven sent whore, i paid knows the lord
a taste, in fact, was besotted with a gaze
we made a home together but this house is not a home these days