Lyrics

THE POLITE

They never do ask why.
They sit there and say thank you with a smile.
And wait, well, something just ain't right.
You can't sit and say thank you.
Should I wheel around instead?

Leave the label on the jar.
You may just somehow need it.
Count the ways and see that nothing is like them
And nothing is for certain.
Find your way to the door.

Now and then your hair needs fixin'
So I'm the one who sits and listens.
On and on your thoughts go on,
Well should I...

Feel your way and with the grain
Take a fine tooth comb and work your way
On through until there's someone listening in tune
With every single thing you do.

You, you're always last in line.
You cover up the footprints of the unwanted kind.
You never laugh with spite.
You never ask for too much.
Well, should I wheel around instead?