You Wouldn't Have To Ask

Your crooked days come bundled up in bunches They break your brain like a branch And push you out here, asking after something You should know I don't have If I had it, you wouldn't have to ask If I had it, you wouldn't have to ask Later on, when you bargain with your mirror And you ask, "Is it really that bad?" Well, if it wasn't, you wouldn't have to ask If it wasn't, you wouldn't have to ask How could you know if you didn't? And what's left to say when your tongue's turned to ash? I tell you you're fine and forgiven So you wouldn't have to ask You shoot what's left Slip inside your sinner's smile Another man in a mask If you fixed it, you wouldn't need a mask If you managed, you wouldn't need a mask If I could fix you, you wouldn't have to ask If I could help you, you wouldn't have to ask