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"Poor Me" lyrics

Swingin' Utters Lyrics

"Poor Me"

Rest on my laurels, some wit and awful pity sustain me
Memories leak like a sieve and fuel this fire, its heavy roar defies me
Let's not talk in vain about the weather
Let's take my tired soul off of its tether

Poor me
Poor, poor me
Poor me
Poor, poor me

I can't reach the ends of this, if I did then it would be the end of me
Need to feign infatuation, stoke the coals of curiosity and longing
We'll talk in vain about the weather
Just take my tired soul off of its tether

I need the glory with lights aglow around me
My halo shining brightly in tribute to myself
I can't have pity on me so tell me another story
And I'll accept gladly and thank you for the help

Poor me
Poor, poor me
Poor me
Poor, poor me


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album: "Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass, And Bones" (2003)
Swingin' Utters - Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass, And Bones album cover
No Pariah
Glad
Hopeless Vows
Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass And Bones
All That I Can Give
Sign In A Window
Don't Ask Why
Lampshade
Letters To Yourself
Heaven At Seventeen
Leaves Of Fate
If You Want Me To
Elation
Poor Me
My Closed Mind
Looking For Something To Follow
Shadows And Lies
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