No one ever has, or ever will, listen to anything I could ever have to say
Not during the night, not during the morning, nor any hour of the day
If fire comes from my mouth, or lasers from my eyes, maybe okay
But otherwise, this world you stuck me in has not invited me to play
I’m not going to get anywhere without some sort of divine power
Not some other time, on some other day, but right now at this hour
It’s been a decade since I’ve been able to tolerate being on this planet
So if you don’t have anything for me to do, get me out of here, damnit
Don’t let me tell myself yet again that I’m not ready
That I need some time, or some skill, or some hand to hold me steady
It’s been twenty five years of this same tired old bullshit
I assume you’re smart enough to pull something new out of your kit
How about some kind of iota of success for a change?
Would something like that just be incomprehensible and strange?
Do you think I am just yearning to be shot in the head in Jerusalem?
Staring up cockeyed at my full-metal jacketed diadem?
No, I’m just sick of the glimmer in the devil’s eye
Watching me stuck in the wrong hemisphere, complacent to get by
By the beach in front of the sunset on the west coast of Mexico
Sitting in that deck chair, sucking that mojito
While the fork-tongued bikini-clad latina tells me with a smile
Relax, Mister Bailey, it’s comfy here, stick around for a while
So I get up, hop on a plane, knowing it’s time to fly
To that far off funeral pyre where I know I’m destined to die
And some Satanist in a uniform swats me away like a fly
God, how many times am I going to have to ask you why?
Nobody loves me there
Nobody wants me there
Am I supposed to believe that if I open my mouth they will care?
If I’m lucky they’re just going to look at me and blankly stare
It’s the same crap they do all the time everywhere
I can’t even go home, that is, if I even had one
Because the devil will just be happy and glad that I’m done
And tell me all the time I should just admit that he’s won
And unfold my next deck chair to wither under the sun
So remember me when looking down from high up in your tower
To this insect who can’t remember the look of your power
Because I have nowhere to go at this late hour
And I’m tired of hearing my doubting heart made everything go sour
One of us two is the big guy in this scenario
And it ain’t me
You’re the omnipotent impresario
I’m not even Tweedle Dee
You’re the all-powerful king of this godless hill
I’m going to have to ask you to get your hand off of your cock
Just once in a while you have to do your will
Or at least show me some mercy and let me off of this rock
So while you’re up there thinking, I sit motionless and still
With my eye fixed directly on the ticking of that clock