Hey look at that guy, look at what he's worth
Rolls his cigarettes backwards
Jesus, what a jerk
He's got hay in his hay loft, flowers in his dirt
Revolts against his heartbeat every time it hurts
But he don't say a word, he's paralyzed his song bird
It never used to be that difficult to sing

But I am no longer gonna help you
If you complain that I don't spit in your eye
I've got enough trouble ending up in hell before my time

Lost all his marbles, all his energies
Sunk in the ocean, bottom of the sea
But he got to know bеtter, learnt some sympathy
Hurting othеr people vanished by degrees

And they said, "There's your crow's feet."
"There's your stay at home freak."
It never used to be that difficult to sing

But I am no longer gonna help you
If you complain that I don't spit in your eye
I've got enough trouble ending up in hell before my time

Oh I'm so impressed with the things I think about
I feel these things I'm never wrong about
I steal from the rich and I give it to the poor
They're so damn dumb that they don't know what it's for
They can't work out what they're supposed to use it for
And as he gets old, he digs a bigger hole
He's got itty-bitty creatures clinging to his toes
And he crawls on the floor, makes a lot of dough
Everybody loves him everywhere he goes

But I don't think he knows
He's closer to a stone's throw
To the place where it's impossible to sing

But I am no longer gonna help you
If you complain that I don't spit in your eye
I've got enough trouble ending up in hell before my time
In hell before my time
In hell before
My time