|
there's a tall, a mulatto, boy I know |
|
and he comes to every party -- he stands alone |
|
viewing them the rest, from the corner of his glance |
|
it gets so clear, he's not judging anyone |
|
the way his arms float around his cage, he's caged |
|
canary sings, silently rings, his voice to rage |
|
the way they stop and stare, the way they turn their heads |
|
it's enough to make him want to run away |
|
but he stays he stands his ground |
|
and I'm so lame |
|
the way I condescend without ever knowing his name |
|
he keeps it in a box, hangs it from his ear |
|
looks at everyone without the slightest fear |
|
it's making me so ashamed |
|
slender body, slip through his glance |
|
I don't give him a single chance |
|
the way he's rocking back and forth |
|
makes a buzzing in my ear |
|
constantly reminding me that I never stop to hear |
|
him say hello, hello |
|
and I'm so lame |
|
like a moth bumping off his godless flame |
|
I cannot condescend or even apprehend, what comes over me |
|
when I see his shameless face |
|
so rage, please rage, against me |
|
beat me down, beat me down, forgive me |
|
for what I've done, I'm so lame, I'm so lame, I'm so lame |
|
so lame, so lame, so lame |
