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Well you've got the kind of secret |
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That you can't afford to tell |
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So you gave it up to |
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Jesus But he's dragging you to hell |
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And you don't know what to make |
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Of all the darkness in your head |
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So you pray and then you cry |
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And then you work until you're dead |
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Now you've got the car, you've got the house |
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You've got the job, you've got the spouse |
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You hate your job, you hate your wife |
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There's nothing on |
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TV tonight |
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You back is sore, your eyes are red |
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The voices screaming in your head |
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You went to see your doctor |
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This is what the doctor said: |
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It's so hard, it's so hard |
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It's so hard, to be a man |
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To be a good man |
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So hard, so hard |
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So hard, to be a man |
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To be a good man |
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So you take the children to the mall |
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And send them on their way |
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You can say your cash is fleeting |
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But you know you're gonna pay |
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When they get home they turn around |
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They're off to see their friends |
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And they'll smoke some pot |
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And god knows what, until the party ends |
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The wife is at the salon |
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Getting pretty for her man |
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But her tits are fake, and so's her tan |
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Her hips are taking all the care |
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You see her body in your bed |
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And still the voices in your head |
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You went to see your therapist |
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And this is all he said: |
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It's so hard, it's so hard |
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It's so hard, to be a man |
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To be a good man |
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It's so hard, it's so hard |
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It's so hard, to be a man |
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To be a good man |
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The weekend comes |
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You grab your clubs |
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You're off to play the links |
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So now's your chance to be yourself |
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With friends and cars and drinks |
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When you get home, you're all alone |
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The wife and kids are gone |
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Where you can get some thinking done |
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In a silent peaceful home |
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But on the kitchen table |
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There's a note from her that reads "You're never home, I'm so alone I'm taking everything" |
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You start to tremble then the tears |
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You haven't felt alive in years |
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You think your life is over |
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But it's really starting here |
