Going For The Gold
There's a voice on the phoneTelling what had happened,Some kind of confusionMore like a disaster.And it wondered how you were left unaffected,But you had no knowledge.No, the chemicals covered you.So a jury was formedAs more liquor was poured.No need for conviction,They're not thirsting for justice.But I slept with the lies I keep inside my head.I found out I was guilty.I found out I was guilty.But I won't be around for the sentencing,Cause I'm leavingOn the next airplane.And though I know that my actions are impossible to justifyThey seem adequate to fill up my time.But if I could talk to myselfLike I was someone else,Well then maybe I could take your advice,And I wouldn't act like such an asshole all the time.
There's a film on the wall,Makes the people look smallWho are sitting beside it,All consumed in the drama.They must return to their lives once the hero has died.They will drive to the officeStopping somewhere for coffee,Where the folk singers, poets and playwrights convene,Dispensing their wisdom,Oh dear amateur orators.
They will detail their painIn some standard refrain.They will recite their sadnessLike it's some kind of contest.Well, if it is, I think I am winning it,All beaming with confidenceAs I make my final lap.The gold medal gleamsSo hang it around my neckCause I am deserving it:The champion of idiots.
But a kid carries his walkman on that long bus ride to Omaha.I know a girl who cries when she practices violin.Cause each note sounds so pure, it just cuts into her,And then the melody comes pouring out her eyes.Now to me, everything else, it just sounds like a lie.