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Pray for my poor melancholy soul, |
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I've cried so many tears inside - |
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My head's a goldfish bowl. |
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A mood so deep - so far above you all, |
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With no one there to catch me if i fall. |
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This is your man in the street reporting, |
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And so far all we've got is that a regular guy is on a ledge up high - |
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He's had enough of the irregular lot. |
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And in the |
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World exclusive live tonight |
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Brought to you via satelilite - |
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The last sane man heard frankly speaking 'bout the 'ups and downs' of leaping |
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He says... [Chorus:] |
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I'm lighter than air - i haven't a care, |
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Still gravity poulls me under, |
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Credibility gaps - gullability fills - |
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They were bringing me down (no wonder) |
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Square pegs, round holes, last dregs, own goals |
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Monkey puzzle my fist won't fot inside |
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Every day nothing new, black and white deja-vu, |
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Makes me feel i wanna spread my wings and glide. |
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Should i look - should i leap from this unfairy story? |
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My life and my filofax flashing before me |
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Fly like a rock from the roof to the basement, |
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The last thing to go through my mind was the pavement! (Falling out of love with life.) |
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Here's the latest news flash update on the wall street situation |
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Seems he wants to have his song played live upon our |
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T.V station |
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It's a lyric he just wrote |
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The bleatings of a social scapegoat, |
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Thirty years under the weather - at the end of a |
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SHORT TETH |
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ER it goes... |
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I'm lighter than air - i haven't a care, |
|
Still gravity poulls me under, |
|
Credibility gaps - gullability fills - |
|
They were bringing me down (no wonder) |
|
Square pegs, round holes, last dregs, own goals |
|
Monkey puzzle my fist won't fit inside |
|
Every day nothing new, black and white deja-vu, |
|
Makes me feel i wanna spread my wings and glide. |
