Cliché

Oh it’s so cliché
Oh it’s so cliché
Cliché

Cast in gold
Your heart’s so cold
Eyes once passionate were dead sea scrolls of shame
A rose by another name wasn’t the same
Picks and bones and
Glass house stones
Vows both imminent and threadbare so when I sing,
I shout
But the words never make it out

Oh it’s so cliché
To look and act the same
Oh it’s so cliché in the vision of everyone
To look and act the same when we were so different

Bless my soul
Mallards in a row
Nights endeavoring the fair-hand folk arise
Girls who should realize, better than I

Such typical
Whims of the fall
All were the wrong thing

Well I sing
I shout
But the words never make it out
Oh it’s so cliché

Well I sing, I shout
Well I sing, I shout
Well I sing, I shout
Well I sing, I shout
But the words never make it out

Oh it’s so cliché
To look and act the same
Oh it’s so cliché in the vision of everyone
To look and act the same when we were so different
Oh it’s so cliché in the vision of everyone
To look and act the same when we were so different