You pull it to the right
And I bring it back to center
I blame it on your pride
And you blame it on my temper

Standing on the skin of a cell it was sickle
For me it was over the coroner, the cripple

We'd spend our lives making out middles
Oh to give so much got me so little

For all that was said
I believe it wasn't spoken
You sang it to the wall
But the tune it wasn't holdin'
My guess it wasn't bound to the spine
To the spindle
For all I lead you from
I'm the coroner, the cripple

We'd spend our lives making out middles
Oh to give so much got me so little