Taken in context,
It's not a bad thing,
But when you start to pick it apart,
It gets so depressed,
It's that sort of thing,
That makes you think too much,
It's that sort of thing,
Makes you lose your objectivity,
So if you made it,
Just be glad that you did and stay there,
If you ever feel loved or needed,
Remember that you're one of the lucky ones,
And if it's over,
Just remember what I told you,
It was bound to happen so just...
Keep moving on,
There are no perfect endings,
You peel back the layers
And get down to the inside,
But sometimes you loose sight,
Of what it was you were trying to find,
And it's that sort of thing,
That makes you think too much,
It's that sort of thing,
Makes you lose your objectivity
So if you made it,
Just be glad that you did and stay there,
If you ever feel loved or needed,
Remember that you're one of the lucky ones,
And if it's over,
Just remember what I told you,
It was bound to happen so just...
Keep moving on,
There are no perfect endings,
No perfect endings.
[Thanks to punk_koala@yahoo.com for correcting these lyrics]
