He was a drunk
He was a punk-ass useless slob and he didn't even wanna get a job.
He'd forgotten how to be himself.
They say the world is a stage and every man must play his part,
but he didn't make the call-back list.
He had a five o'clock shadow on his heart.
He was so weak he couldn't even make a fist to punch himself.
She came along, and right away he felt a little less wrong, subsequently just a little more strong - This anomaly flipped his lid.
He checked his hair, and smoothed out the ruffles in his shirt because he suddenly remembered how to flirt.
He took a Tic-Tac (he knew it wouldn't hurt!), he put his lips on yellow alert, and he said "Hello, how are you?" and he shook her little hand.
These days he don't know that much about much but here's his summary: God is great, the devil is bad, and somewhere in the middle there's you and me...
In the wreckage and the ruin (standing side by side) and they know what they're doin'.
In fact he feels like he is finally pulling away from the devil since he met her.
His strength is coming right back like a prodigal son, like a prodigal son.
He checked his couch, and his pockets, and his car's ashtray, and he found enough dinero to pay for things from the Goodwill Store like soap and Listerine to make him fresh and clean, and a pretty decent old black comb (he found it on the street on his way home).
He borrowed some SpeedStick from the guy in the apartment behind him.
He didn't tell him, though I hope he doesn't mind him, he really shouldn't leave his door unlocked, because he also took a pair of his socks, and a Falco tape, I'm sure he didn't play it anymore.
Shaved face, smooth as onion, dressed in out-of-fashion clothes, ready for their secret tryst about which everybody knows...
And that's perfectly cool.
He's always been a big fool.
But thanks to her, he thinks he's finally pulling away from the devil, he's just begun;
His strength is coming right back like a prodigal son, like a prodigal son.
One step forward, two back. (Plastic loser falling behind)
One step forward, two back. (No dice, he chose the moves that he made)
And the moves that he made led him away, away from the game.
Same old same old, but further away...
And he still finds life perplexing but he submits his thesis humbly: God is great, the devil is bad, and somewhere in the middle there's you and me...
In the wreckage and ruin (standing side by side) and they know what they're doin'.
She is the oil can to his tin man, the extra stuffing to his scarecrow, the gamma rays to his Incredible Hulk (though that sounds crude)
And he feels like he is finally pulling away from the devil since he met her.
I wrote this to express the gratitude of a punk-ass useless dude.
