Cliche

One more game, one more chance

One more orchestrated song and dance

He'd be up front and speak his peace

And ask for her time

To put their heads together

And try to make the knot unwind

And it strikes home that it's time to make his move

Or it's time to turn and walk away

So he plays that old cliché



Silent tears, bleeding heart

Well our prima donna plies her art

Defenses of defenses of faultless design

Still she's only asking him

To help her make the knot unwind

And if the very next words

Leaving her lips could decide

If he'd go or if he'd stay

She would play that old cliché



Who makes up the rules for the world?

Haven't we been down this road before?

Isn't anything peculiar here?

Certainly there must be something more



Where are the words, where are the words,

Where are the words

Where are the words, where are the words,

Where are the words

And it's almost not worth singing about,

It seems so everyday anyway

Still we play that old cliché



And here sit i, one man show

I vivisect and then pretend to know

All it ever gets me is an ache in the mind

Can't somebody help me to try to make the knot unwind

And i say what i say when i know

There's really nothing left to say

Then i play that old cliché

Throw away that old cliché




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