Revolving Doors

Can you notice from the gleam in my eye that something's gone wrong
- all my petty little puzzles solved and nothing to beat or better myself -
four razorblades and revolving doors,
i tear out my hair to break your semaphore because when tomorrow is dead,
what is there to live for?
I'm just as bitter as I ever was and something's gone wrong.
And it's eating me,
am i just too cold to forgive,
forget and face up to the crowds of riot sheilds and putting downs?
So put me to your lips and suck the poison out.
When tomorrow is dead,
what is there to live for?
When tomorrow is dead so am I