You Win Some, You Tie Some - Daniel Knox

It isn’t love

That breaks your heart

It isn’t love

That rips your skull apart

It’s a self inflicted wound you pay

I guess I’ll play the doctor today

It isn’t god

Who strikes the match

It isn’t god

Who’s there to catch you

you use your own two hands to climb

And knock yourself down every time

Everybody wants

Something pretty

A shiny coin

In a filthy city

But if you want the old authentic feel

I guarantee my ugliness is real

I guarantee my ugliness is real