Just an average Joe tried smoking dope
in High School drinking liquor to be cool,
who the fuck you tryin' to fool,
drive a V-8 but not a real muscle car,
sure it's all that you can afford,
a piece of shit and nothing more.
Just what kind of winner do you think you are?
Gaining weight and writing letters to the loves you've lost,
write a book you'll never send,
pretend you Jean-Luc Picard,
you'd bang the sexy counselor on the starship Enterprise,
if fantasies were gold, you'd be a millionaire,
but it still wouldn't be enough to buy you a new personality.
A day-to-day existance is just below your means,
with fate to bang you in the ass with
misery your company service jobs and cable-boxes
have replaced the good old days of high school,
failed suicides and endless teenage misery your only purpose
I can see except for making daisies grow,
is to teach the rest of us how not to waste our lives.
What a nightmare it must be to be no one at all,
to take up space and waste the air and never get the wake-up call,
is how you'll go to your grave,
nothing but aspertions cast in your wake,
reality for you must suck,
no more than a wart on the face of the world!