The life of a bureaucrat is tough
Trust me, I'm defeated
And when you ask for a hand
I'll act like I didn't see it, say
"The only way to provide and feed your
Family so they don't sprout weeds
Or die of polio painfully
I lost my train of thought
Just make that money!"
Women and girls, pull out your knives
We'll kill any man who looks at us twice
'Sweetheart, honey, sugar-pie..."
I swore, I swore I would make them cry
And smile because I'm right
And I'll say sorry if I have to go
But I don't have friends and I don't want more
I hold my Grammy for Best In Show
And I stare stare stare till I think no more
My songs are as bland and emotionless as the rest
I wrapped my legs around the altar
And I held hands with all the others
Memorized the state of our
Soiled, infested, songs of rapture
Peeled back the wallpaper and
Saw the state of our loneliness