|
My so-called friends |
|
Where are they now? |
|
I guess a love that bends |
|
Isn't worth much anyhow |
|
The come and go |
|
They talk their shit |
|
And when I really need to know |
|
All I get is spit in my eye |
|
But the less |
|
I know, The better, the faster |
|
I go, jet-setter |
|
I chase around the world |
|
But I never get the girl |
|
But I don't let it bother me |
|
I cut out any part of me |
|
That's been bruised, and refused, and misused or confused |
|
Oh, some people wanna know |
|
All about my history |
|
And no one seems to care |
|
That none of it's noteworthy |
|
But I talked so much, as it were |
|
That I made the local news: "The boy has got the magic touch And he can't ever lose" |
|
My present situation |
|
Is no longer inspiration |
|
My precious generation |
|
Is killing their time |
|
And behind their backs |
|
I'm slipping through the cracks |
|
And it doesn't really matter if |
|
You won't have any part of this |
|
My scheme |
|
I've devised |
|
Where my team is disguised |
|
And we seem like ordinary guys |
|
But surprised |
|
I'm hardly phased anymore |
|
By your classless ways |
|
It takes more than that to amaze me |
|
These days |
|
I'm so messed-up |
|
Never know what time it is |
|
Jet lag's the price to pay to play show biz, kid |
|
And I stayed up late |
|
The night before |
|
I slept the whole way on the plane |
|
And now my neck is sore (C'mon now) |
|
Da da da da da da, ahh... |
