| He was a drunk |
| He was a punk-ass useless slob and he didn’t even wanna get a job. |
| He’d forgotten how to be himself. |
| They say the world is a stage and every man must play his part, |
| but he didn’t make the call-back list. |
| He had a five o’clock shadow on his heart. |
| He was so weak he couldn’t even make a fist to punch himself. |
| She came along, and right away he felt a little less wrong, subsequently just a |
| little more strong — This anomaly flipped his lid. |
| He checked his hair, and smoothed out the ruffles in his shirt because he |
| suddenly remembered how to flirt. |
| He took a Tic-Tac (he knew it wouldn’t hurt!), he put his lips on yellow alert, |
| and he said «Hello, how are you?» and he shook her little hand. (Whoa!) |
| These days he don’t know that muhc about much but here’s his summary: |
| God is great, the devil is bad, and somewhere in the middle there’s you and me. |
| In the wreckage and the ruin (standing side by side) and they know what they’re |
| doin'. |
| In fact he feels like he is finally pulling away from the devil since he met |
| her. |
| His strength is coming right back like a prodigal son, like a prodigal son. |
| He checked his couch, and his pockets, and his car’s ashtray, and he found |
| enough dinero to pay for things from the Goodwill Store like soap and Listerine |
| to make him fresh and clean, and a pretty decent old black comb (he found it on |
| the street on his way home). |
| He borrowed some SpeedStick from the guy in the apartment behind him. |
| He didn’t tell him, though I hope he doesn’t mind him, he really shouldn’t |
| leave his door unlocked, because he also took a pair of his socks, |
| and a Falco tape, I’m sure he didn’t play it anymore. (Whoa!) |
| Shaved face, smooth as onion, dressed in out-of-fashion clothes, |
| ready for their secret tryst about which everybody knows… |
| And that’s perfectly cool. |
| He’s always been a big fool. |
| But thanks to her, he thinks he’s finally pulling away from the devil, |
| he’s just begun; |
| His strength is coming right back like a prodigal son, like a prodigal son. |
| (breakdown:) |
| One step forward, two back. (Plastic loser falling behind) |
| One step forward, two back. (No dice, he chose the moves that he made) |
| And the moves that he made led him away, away from the game. |
| Same old same old, but further away… |
| And he still finds life perplexing but he submits his thesis humbly: |
| God is great, the devil is bad, and somewhere in the middle there’s you and me. |
| In the wreckage and ruin (standing side by side) and they know what they’re |
| doin'. |
| She is the oil can to his tin man, the extra stuffing to his scarecrow, |
| the gamma rays to his Incredible Hulk (though that sounds crude) |
| And he feels like he is finally pulling away from the devil since he met her. |
| I wrote this to express the gratitude of a punk-ass useless dude. |