The Amputees
Dan McKinna, Stuart A. Staples
We are the amputees
Cut off at our knees
Something's tickling at our feet
No more the sufferers
The dull thud of us
Once our heels they clacked in the street
I miss you so bad
I miss you so bad
We are the stigmatized
The proselytized
Our love and our hate smoothed and shined
No more extremities
No more possibilities
Like forgotten skittles we wait for our strike
I miss you so bad
I miss you so bad
I miss you so bad
If I could lean to you
I'd whisper in your ear
If I could reach for you
I'd touch you, I'd touch you
I'd touch you, I'd touch you
I'd touch you
I miss you so bad
I miss you so
I miss you so bad
Miss you so
I miss you, oh
I miss you
I miss you so bad
Miss you so
Miss you, oh
I miss you
I miss you so
I miss you so bad