Over & Over - The Beat

promise your secrecy into the microphone

into the megaphone, into the cell

questioning decency under the microscope

over and over then over and out

organise my life over the telephone

over my dead body, over my head

tread a fine line between you and your memories

between you and me things are best left unsaid

the honouring of violence

is a security number

always so quiet it slips under your guard

pushes your dead body, under the microscope

over and over it’s over say over and out

another incident, another accident

dangerous emptiness, people in shock

you pelt them with rocks

and the old innuendo

«no that was no mishap

that brake line was cut»

lie on the pavement, wait for an ambulance

say to yourself nothing is what it seems

never meaning to say you never say what you mean

you get caught by the sirens on your t.v.

screen

the honouring of violence

is a security number

always so quiet it slips under your guard

pushes your dead body, under the microscope

over and over and over

then over and out

over and out out

over and out out

over and out