Yeah, you got this place you go
It's just a trip before the fall
Way past the fevered pitch
Just a spit from the wrecking ball
Said you woke up this morning
Said you woke up under a curse
I've heard the blues are bad but this is something worse
And the ambulance driver
Well he tips his hat and stares
And he asks you in a grave voice
Can I take you anywhere?
Yeah, it's the thing we cannot speak of
Too painful to behold
This blister soul
There's a smaller place you go
Where there's hardly any sound
Where the deals have all gone sour
And the house of cards comes down
And the damage is costly
It's beyond all dollars and sense
You can't measure it with graphs and charts or any instruments
Yeah, the thing we cannot speak of
The secret we all know
This blister soul
Yeah, from the trumpet blast
I hear the banging drum
Yeah, from once upon a time to the kingdom come
And the thing that's yours for free
Is the thing I need the most
Oh, stifles every boast
Yeah, the thing that's hard to speak of
But the secret we all know
This blister soul

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