Falling down by the way-side she's afraid to touch anything, Afraid it'll turn to stone like everything else has in her lifeShe can see past the manufacturing dump, she can see through walls. She can persuade the entire lunch room to walk out on strikeBut they always come back to work the next day on the dot, 7am she knows what ails themHer friends know her so well, they've lost all their sympathy. Her old boyfriend's always hanging around stealing her identityThey set the stage to hide, She can't stand on it. She can fly a knife around the room, she can smash the glassShe can't stand on the stage. She can't stand on the stageShe can't stand the stage. She can set the stage but she can't stand on itThey must be burn no plane for fuel like the sea man planned today, that's the reason why the sky's all the colours in the rainbowShe says "Oh no, not another band" she thinks its to late to take up the bass, stare in to the jaded faceOh, colour co-ordinated Doc Marten shoes, Doc Marten hair, plaid combinationCommercials make her mad, commercials make her really mad. Commercials are little funerals for every lost [...]They set the stage to hide, She can't stand on it. She can fly a knife around the room, she can smash the glassShe can't stand on the stage. She can't stand the stageShe can't stand on the stage. She can't stand the stage. She can smash the glass, but she can't stand on it
