Let down and hanging around Crushed like a bug in the ground Transport, motorways and tramlines Starting and then stopping Taking off and landing The emptiest of feelings Disappointed people, clinging on to bottles When it comes it's so, so, disappointing

Next time you point a finger But the way I, way I see it I might have to bend it back I'll point you to the mirror And break it, break it off (I'll point you to the mirror) You don't have to believe me Can't make my own decisions

Yeah Cupid’s got a shotgun aiming at my heart I’ve been dodging bullets, I’ve been hiding in the dark Sawed off double barrel, trigger happy as could be Cupid’s got a shotgun and he’s pointing it at me Oh he gave up on arrows a long, long time ago Turns

(Kick me out, kick me out) I don't want to hear you Get off the bandwagon and put down the handbook Fake Tales of San Francisco I don't want to hear, you know Echo through the room More point to a wedding disco Without a bride or groom There's a super