We wear what we feel, and we feel worn out
Like the heart on my sleeve and my head in the clouds
The words never made it off this crumpled paper to held out notes and long drawn out breaths

Chorus:
We're just the scratches on cd's
We're in the business of playing to please
We only sing to dollar signs and we've got decimals for eyes so you have someone to despise

Take a moment and a photograph
Every second that could make you smile
Best friends we do the best we can or take your time
Every minute seems a mile away
We're better off in the end

We know we're the worst, and we've got this down to a science, my conscience and the consequence
The following sequence of events has yet to happen

(chorus)

Take a moment and a photograph
Every second that could make you smile
Best friends we do the best we can or take your time
Every minute seems a mile away
We're better off in the end

If the taste of your lips isn't permanent
Then give me back my tongue