One more game, one more chance
One more orchestrated song and dance
Hed be up front and speak his peace
And ask for her time
To put their heads together
And try to make the knot unwind
And it strikes home that its time to make his move
Or its time to turn and walk away
So he plays that old clich
Silent tears, bleeding heart
Well our prima donna plies her art
Defenses of defenses of faultless design
Still shes only asking him
To help her make the knot unwind
And if the very next words
Leaving her lips could decide
If hed go or if hed stay
She would play that old clich
Who makes up the rules for the world?
Havent we been down this road before?
Isnt anything peculiar here?
Certainly there must be something more
Where are the words, where are the words,
Where are the words
Where are the words, where are the words,
Where are the words
And its almost not worth singing about,
It seems so everyday anyway
Still we play that old clich
And here sit i, one man show
I vivisect and then pretend to know
All it ever gets me is an ache in the mind
Cant somebody help me to try to make the knot unwind
And I say what I say when I know
Theres really nothing left to say
Then I play that old clich
Throw away that old clich