everything i thought i knew about myself is wrong
money flies out of my bank account
money evaporates as it sits in the drawer
money taken by the spirits
i am not clean
i am grimy
a dirty fighter who always loses in the end
something so fundamentally wrong with my picture
some instrument in my orchestra can never get in tune
some unseen error in my calculus fucks up the answer
you never saw someone so close
so fucking close to this
so fucking close to that
but in the end…..what?
a 2 byte singer
knocking out 4th form poetry
in a place wheres theres no school magazines anymore
weak and feeble and docile and grubby
i can do some yoga pose but inside im inflexible and snap….
look at me whinging on the internet
i guess you are
listen to me rave on about my inadequacies
my false modesty
too late to be fucking humble mate
i can sling a sentence together
i’m a real smart alec sander
i’m a clown at a funeral
a spare prostitute at a pricks wedding
i couldnt go a round in a revolving door
now youre confused
who are you sticking up for ….me?
you know deep down i am a ratbag
you almost like it when it suits you
a clever little ratbag but a ratbag nonetheless
flagellating my straps moaning down easy street
as i squander the $ i made from some useless behemoth
still with enough energy and time to discount my blessings tho
re read the liner notes to the soundtrack of yer lives then
have another look at the finite print
cop another high
cop another low
a new low
a whole brand new low
how low can ya go?
i still dunno