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There's a voice on the phone |
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Telling what had happened |
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Some kind of confusion |
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More like a disaster |
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And it wondered how |
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You were left unaffected |
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But you had no knowledge |
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No, the chemicals covered you |
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So a jury was formed |
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As more liquor was poured |
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No need for conviction |
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They're not thirsting for justice |
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But I slept with the lies |
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I keep inside my head |
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I found out |
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I was guilty |
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I found out |
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I was guilty |
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But I won't be around |
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For the sentencing' |
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Cause I'm leaving |
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On the next airplane |
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And I know that my actions |
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Are impossible to justify |
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They seem adequate |
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To fill up my time |
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But if I could talk to myself |
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Like I was someone else |
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Well then maybe |
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I could take your advice, advice |
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And I wouldn't act like such an asshole all the time |
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There's a film on the wall |
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Makes the people look small |
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Who are sitting beside it |
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All consumed in the drama |
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They must return to their lives |
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Once the hero has died |
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They will drive to the office |
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Stopping somewhere for coffee |
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Where the folk singers, poets |
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And playwrights convene |
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Dispensing their wisdom |
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Oh, dear, amateur orators |
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They will detail their pain |
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In some standard refrain |
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They will recite their sadness |
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Like it's some kind of contest |
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Well, if it is |
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I think I am winning it |
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All beaming with confidence |
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As I make my final lap |
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The gold medal gleams |
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So hang it around my neck' |
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Cause I am deserving it |
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The champion of idiots |
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But a kid carries his |
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WalkmanOn that long bus ride to |
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OmahaI know a girl who cries |
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When she practices violin' |
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Cause each note sounds so pure |
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It just cuts into her |
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And then the melody |
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Comes pouring out her eyes, eyes |
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Now to me, everything else |
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It just sounds like a lie |
