Lyrics
Blurred spectacle, ineffectual - let's call it romantic. On awakening I
look straight at the sun, I'm pinned to the corner like the class clown.
But once I get in front I'll let you drown like a cat. 'Til I'm dealt
that card the engine's on, I'm in the car. One suck on the pipe and I'll
be gone. I'm accountable. I'm responsible - you can call me pragmatic.
What took away the fame? Could it be built up again - the acclaim and
the constant eulogies for class clowns like me? But once I get in front
I'll terrorize all I want and the world won't turn... stops and stagnates...
disintegrates. This romantic dream keeps you in a cage...
Should I not fraternize with these angels I've loved?
But if I'm out of time I'll say my goodbyes and float downstream...
and have cynics witness me grow rotten at the seams...
