| Alarmed by fascination |
| The darkness in me grows |
| A moment’s hesitation |
| The dark assumes control |
| Really, I don’t know what matters |
| I only know two things |
| The first it is the flower that flatters |
| The second is a scorpion stings |
| Well… |
| I’m giving up on a wish in the well |
| Alright |
| I’m sick and tired of trying to tell |
| Whether I am facing front or back |
| Waiting in line |
| Let me sling this fable |
| Have you seen the papers? |
| They’re written from a bird’s eye view |
| Unsafe beneath the surface of saviors |
| They can’t see me or you… Well… |
| I’m giving up on a wish in the well |
| I’m sick and tired of trying to tell |
| Whether I am facing front or back |
| Waiting in line |
| Let me sling this fable |
| Well the future came today |
| The alarm bell sounds the stage |
| While these fools twiddle their thumbs |
| Something wicked this way comes |
| I’m giving up on a wish in the well |
| I’m sick and tired of trying to tell |
| I’m giving up on a wish in the well my love |
| I’m sick and tired |
| Whether I am facing front or back |
| Waiting in line |
| Let me sling this fable |
| Another wish another well |
| I’m giving up on a wish in the well |
| I’m sick and tired of trying to tell |
| Oh I’m giving up on a wish in the well |
| I’m giving up on a wish in the well |