I can't compete with the clear eyes of strangers. I'm more and more replaced. By my friends each night. I can't compete. Just can't recover. How many years it's been it's day one in my mind. That's the first step. Each time. The heart is hard to find. It's hard to find the heart. Sometimes. I can't compete with your new-found religion. The good word seems everywhere. But good words only. I can't compete with a real education. All the fucked up things you say. Couldn't possibly be any less help to me. The heart is hard to find. It's hard to find the heart. Sometimes