While my guitar gently weeps
Song of the day;;
I'm not a ladies' man, I'm a land mine
Filming my own fake death
Under an '88 Cavalier, I go
But-but-but-but, nothing but the rear bumper's blown
But I was born for this flight
United 955 on the fifth of July
Back to SFO, I-I
I join the dark si-ide
In a thin disgui-ise
On consumer grade video at ni-ight
Faking suicide for applause
In the food courts of malls
And cursing racing horses on church steps
Playing the wall at singles bingo
All-time gringo
Did anyone hear me cry there?
Through a toilet-stall divider
I swear, I care, not
Am I an example of a calculated birth
To a star chart for clowns? I'm not
Under Robin's eggs in a nest
You hid a manila envelope
With one last little Robin's egg in it
A hollow bullet yet spent
Subject to dismissal
I wish all my pitfalls
Could be caught by this call
Cheeri-A
Cheeri-E
Cheeri-I
Cheeri-O
Cheeri-U
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