There is a man in the mirror
There is a voice on the phone
I read some books about the city
Now I'm never goin' home

Sweet victory

There is a spoon in the sugar
Sweet whiskey on my tounge
I tore at least (1-2-3?) three stitches
Why does healing take so long

Sweet victory

There is a star with eight points
A gold truth sphering the center
White blood noise pours from my side
as I exit the winter

Sweet, Sweet, Sweet victory

There is a truth to this letter
There is a song in my spine
I just might get away with this
If I'm carefull and do it right

Sweet victory

There are tacks in the plaster
Sticking dreams to my wall
I'm trying not to think about
How far I could fall

Sweet, Sweet, Sweet victory

There is a man in the mirror
There is a voice but I'm alone
Even if I have to walk to where I'm going
I'll make it to the show.