To leave it up to me is circumstantial
To leave it up to me is suspect in the least
Still running rings around us, pushing failings when we're chances
And all the obvious were targets

and Heaven knows I've tried a thousand ways to breach it
and Heaven knows how there's a thousand different ways
to kneel and kiss the ground
to kneel and kiss the ground

So sad this point for vitriol is sorely lacking
This mark for making needs a victim to be happening
And don't imagine that the gold's not in the fridge
And all the obvious not targets

and Heaven knows I've tried a thousand ways to breach it
and Heaven knows how there's a thousand different ways
to kneel and kiss the ground
to kneel and kiss the ground

So thin and wait for less