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There's a man |
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Hanging by his pants-seat |
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While the moon |
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Is hanging over 4th street |
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People stop and look at him |
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They think they understand |
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They know that you're loaded |
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And you're crazy |
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And they think you're stupid |
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You can trust me |
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I'm your best friend |
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Now's the time to leave |
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Before he breaks your nose |
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Rips your clothes |
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Makes you bleed |
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It's okay |
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I've got money for a taxi |
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Yeah |
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The people in the crowd |
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They're just a bunch of creeps |
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Just the same |
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You shouldn't blame |
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Your problems on the Greeks |
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Cuz it looks like you need stitches |
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And that lip won't heal for weeks |
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Hey don't fall asleep |
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Your nose bleed on my lap |
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Hey lean against the window |
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Hey nevermind |
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Come back |
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Alan... Alan... Alan... Alan |
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Sorry Mr. Kessler |
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Searched his pockets |
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No key there |
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Yeah somebody hit him |
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Help me drag him up the stair |
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Kessler takes a look at us |
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He thinks he understands |
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He knows that we're loaded |
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And we're crazy |
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And he thinks you're stupid |
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I prop you at your typewriter |
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A broomstick up your shirt |
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I lay your hands across the keys |
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Ah shit I'm suck a jerk |
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You've got to be a fighter |
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The problem with the world is |
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They don't know |
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That you're a writer |
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Alan... Alan... Alan... Alan |
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You get next |
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To me |
