Song parody of
Blood On My Face
by Mark Welles
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Monday evenings lack distinct properties,
By Tuesday morning, you’re just stuck in the week.
You’re so sincere, it touches me.
Your face breeds possibilities.
Friday nights start out so hopeful, indeed.
Sunday morns accrue despair from the week.
It’s not my aim to let you down,
When all you do is comfort me.
And while we linger on this ride,
I know those eyes…
I know those eyes…
Even those pretty eyes were still made to see.
‘Cause I’ve got blood on my face,
Such an ugly taste,
Is there enough in the world
To keep me moving if I’ve lost you?
Is it the way that I think,
Or just the beer that I drink
That keeps me searching for more,
‘Cause nothing’s ever good enough for me.
Winter evenings make us fight to keep sane,
Springtime melts the frost and some of the pain.
Your face looks good out in the sun.
It shines like that’s where it should be.
Summer nights bring expectations of fun,
Autumn mocks all summer’s plans left undone.
If everything’s set in its right place,
Is this as happy as we can be?
I know you’ll say that things are fine,
But your eyes…
I know those eyes…
Even those pretty eyes were still made to see.
‘Cause I’ve got blood on my face,
Such an ugly taste,
Is there enough in the world
To keep me moving if I’ve lost you?
Is it the way that I think,
Or just the beer that I drink
That keeps me searching for more,
‘Cause nothing’s ever good enough for me.
Younger years require less long-term thought.
Each year, decisions are increasingly fraught.
You always seem to make me smile,
That’s what you’ll always do for me.
Older years, they bring some good and some bad,
You grow so wise but lose the light that you had.
You never tried to keep me down,
But even you know I can’t stay.
And while we waiver on this road,
I know those eyes…
I know those eyes…
Even those pretty eyes were still made to see.
‘Cause I’ve got blood on my face,
Such an ugly taste,
Is there enough in the world
To keep me moving if I’ve lost you?
Is it the way that I think,
Or just the beer that I drink
That keeps me searching for more,
‘Cause nothing’s ever good enough for me.
Monday evenings lack distinct properties,
By Tuesday morning, you’re just stuck in the week.
You’re so sincere, it touches me.
Your face breeds possibilities.
Friday nights start out so hopeful, indeed.
Sunday morns accrue despair from the week.
It’s not my aim to let you down,
When all you do is comfort me.
And while we linger on this ride,
I know those eyes…
I know those eyes…
Even those pretty eyes were still made to see.
‘Cause I’ve got blood on my face,
Such an ugly taste,
Is there enough in the world
To keep me moving if I’ve lost you?
Is it the way that I think,
Or just the beer that I drink
That keeps me searching for more,
‘Cause nothing’s ever good enough for me.
Winter evenings make us fight to keep sane,
Springtime melts the frost and some of the pain.
Your face looks good out in the sun.
It shines like that’s where it should be.
Summer nights bring expectations of fun,
Autumn mocks all summer’s plans left undone.
If everything’s set in its right place,
Is this as happy as we can be?
I know you’ll say that things are fine,
But your eyes…
I know those eyes…
Even those pretty eyes were still made to see.
‘Cause I’ve got blood on my face,
Such an ugly taste,
Is there enough in the world
To keep me moving if I’ve lost you?
Is it the way that I think,
Or just the beer that I drink
That keeps me searching for more,
‘Cause nothing’s ever good enough for me.
Younger years require less long-term thought.
Each year, decisions are increasingly fraught.
You always seem to make me smile,
That’s what you’ll always do for me.
Older years, they bring some good and some bad,
You grow so wise but lose the light that you had.
You never tried to keep me down,
But even you know I can’t stay.
And while we waiver on this road,
I know those eyes…
I know those eyes…
Even those pretty eyes were still made to see.
‘Cause I’ve got blood on my face,
Such an ugly taste,
Is there enough in the world
To keep me moving if I’ve lost you?
Is it the way that I think,
Or just the beer that I drink
That keeps me searching for more,
‘Cause nothing’s ever good enough for me.
