The disappointed

All shuffle round in circles

Their placards look the same

With a picture and a name

Of the ones who broke their hearts

The disappointed

All congregate at my house

Their voices sob with grief

That they want to be chief

Of the tribe with broken hearts

Once, I had no sympathy

For those destroyed and thrown away by love

Seems, your ring upon my finger

Signifies that I’ve become the spokesman of…

The disappointed

Will bear me on their shoulders

To a secret shadow land

Where a sombre marching band

Plays a tune for broken hearts

And day grows darker now

Everywhere, everywhere

The disappointed

Are coming in their millions

They’re spilling from the bus

At a monument to us

Made of bits of broken heart

The disappointed

Are growing every second

They blot the sun to black

At the bottom of the pack

I’m the king of broken hearts