| Leaning backwards a memory | |
| Staying on the periphery | |
| To all the things that used to be | |
| I'll say goodbye | |
| To the smoky rooms, where they piss their time | |
| To the alright boys, left with no rhyme | |
| To all the ploys as dumb as mine | |
| I'll say goodbye | |
| Nothing ventured, nothing gained | |
| Put it down to expenses, it's all the same | |
| To all the players of the game | |
| I'll say goodbye | |
| To the wait in line and don't complain | |
| To the fake pretending not to be sane | |
| To the someone's loss is always my gain | |
| I'll say goodbye | |
| To the people cocktail, that does not mix | |
| To the have-it-all by dirty tricks | |
| Of national airwaves jammed by pricks | |
| I'll say goodbye | |
| To the chilled and labelled haunted face | |
| To the claustrophobic can't do space | |
| To every lace curtained place | |
| I'll say goodbye | |
| Through the thin and unsupported walls | |
| To the talking big and acting small | |
| To the last ordered home time call | |
| I'll say goodbye | |
| To the third rate butcher's dance-hall-mix | |
| To the gain attention finger clicks | |
| To the try it on the wind-up slicks | |
| I'll say goodbye |