telling what had happened
some kind of confusion
more like a disaster
and it wondered how you were left unaffected
but you had no knowledge
no, the chemicals covered you
and so a jury was formed
as 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
but i won't be around
for the sentencing
because i'm leaving
on the next airplane
and though i know that my actions are impossible to justify
they seem adequate to fill up my time
and if i could talk to myself
like 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 small
who 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 office
stopping somewhere for coffee
where the folk singers, poets, and playwrights convene
dispensing their wisdom
oh, dear amateur orators
they will detail their pain
in some standard refrain
that will recite their sadness
like it's some kind of contest
well if it is,
i think i am winning it
all beaming with confidence
as i make my final lap
the gold medal gleams
so hang it around my neck
because 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
because each note sounds so pure
it just cuts into her
and then the melody comes pouring out her eyes
and now to me, everything else
it just sounds like a lie
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