I find myself a wannabe
I find myself a fraud
I find myself a wannabe
watching the dog
he spins around in circles
chasing his tail
he spins around in circles
he spins around
I find myself walking through town
counting the cars
staring at the headlights
smoking a cigar
She dresses up like a man
just to pick up chicks
says she fed up with them
too many dicks
She likes to fuck
I find myself tossing some darts
a throw's just a slow fall
aiming for the bull's-eye
but hitting the wall
Too many holes
in the alibi
the star witness
she, likes to fly
Talk to the kite
and let it soar
close my eyes
and, take the whore
I find myself a wannabe
I find myself a fraud
Too many passers-by
to believe I'm God.
Watch for the next train
It'll be here soon
The 9:30's right on time
The station runs out of room
Jump the tracks
Eagerness killed the beaver
curiosity the cat
The angels
Know where you're at
Watch your back
Eating out my insides
like your Frosted Flakes
Can't be too sure
just how much it takes
Mercy has a holiday
Pain has overtime
Greed orchestrates
Death tows the line
I'm all out of cliches.
Single file
march on. . .
1998 © Dave Cavill