Dead in the water
It´s not a paid vacation
The sons and daughters of city officials
Attend demonstrations
It´s hardly a sink or swim

When all is well if the ticket sells

Out with? a wimper
It´s not a blaze of glory
You look down from your temple
As people endeavor to make it a story
And chisel a marble word
But all is lost if it´s never heard

But I´ve got someone to make reports
That tell me how my money´s spent
To book? my stays and draw my blinds
So I can´t see what´s really there
And all I need´s a great big congratulations

I´ll keep your dreams
You pay attention for me
As strange as it seems

I´d rather dissolve than have you ignore me
The ground may be moving fast
But I tied my boots to a broken mast

The difference is clear
You throw it in your cauldron
Rust and veneer, dusk and dawn
Steinways and Baldwins
You start with a simple stock of all the waste
And salt to taste

But damn my? luck and damn these friends
That keep on combing back their smiles
I save my grace with half-assed guilt
And lay down the quilt upon the lawn
Spread my arms and soak up congratulations