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