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作词 : David Yazbek |
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作曲 : David Yazbek |
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I know what's gonna happen |
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I'll try to go to bed |
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With fear of failure flapping |
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Like a fruit bat in my head |
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I'll sleep for half an hour |
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The clock will ring at six |
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I'll wake up in the shower with a stomach full of bricks |
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So I won't have any breakfast, maybe just a little tea |
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Like when you have to go and get a colonoscopy |
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Which incidentally isn't half as disconcerting or upsetting |
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As going for a part you know there is no way that you are getting |
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But anyway I'm heading, downtown for the audition |
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Where everything I'm dreading will be coming to fruition |
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And here's what's gonna happen |
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I'll walk in weak with hunger |
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And there's a dozen girls who look like me but ten years younger |
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I'll go into the bathroom and I'll try to vocalize |
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And I'll be singing "minga-minga-minga-minga-ming" |
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But I'll be hearing Sandy sucks |
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She really sucks, she really, really, really blows |
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And she's old, and she's lame, |
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and then someone calls my name |
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And here's what happens |
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I'll walk into the room |
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The gross fluorescent lighting is inviting as a tomb |
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And everybody smiles, they'll say its good to see ya |
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But all I see is judges and they'll all look like Scalia |
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And then a little banter as they look me up and down |
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And somewhere through the fog of insecurity and hate |
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I'll try to convince them that I'm charming |
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And I'm clever and I'm fun to have around |
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But I'm starting to unravel in my head I hear the gavel |
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Guilty! They're gonna throw the book at me 'cuz I'm |
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Guilty! Of coming in and wasting all their time |
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Guilty! Of almost every other showbiz crime |
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Not young enough! |
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Not thin enough! |
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Not pretty enough! |
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Not good enough! |
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We hereby sentence you to a lifetime of waiting tables and debilitating self-loathing |
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Sandy? |
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But wait no someone's asking |
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So can we hear your voice? |
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I make a lame attempt at humor: Do I have a choice? |
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I nod at the pianist |
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He's always wearing black |
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He's always in a turtleneck with dandruff on his back |
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No sooner do I get my note and open up my trap |
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Then inevitably some mealy-mouthed assistant director's thumbs are all over his iPhone |
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And I know he's probably tweeting LOL, This girl is crap |
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She's a fake, she's a phony |
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She could never win a Tony |
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I now live in a place I know quite well |
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I've left the world, and I've entered hell |
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I'm this far away from a fainting spell |
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But just before I die |
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I finish a song which I oversell |
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Somebody says thanks and wishes me well |
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The next thing I know I'm at Taco Bell |
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Stuffing my face with meat |
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I'm trying to take it slowly |
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I'm trying to be my best |
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I'm trying to be more holy |
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Less bitter and depressed |
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I'm reading Eckhart Tolle |
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He makes a lot of sense |
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I bought a Buddhist bowl |
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He says he it helps you be less tense |
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It doesn't do a thing for me |
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I sit there on the floor |
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I watch a vivid sequence of humiliating instances from my past go by |
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And think what kind of masochist keeps coming back for more |
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When she knows what's gonna happen |
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'Cuz it never doesn't happen |
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'Cuz it always, always |
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Sandy? Sandy! |
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Michael? |
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No! I know what's gonna happen |
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Don't tell me that I don't |
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And don't say that I'll rise to the occasion 'cuz I won't |
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And don't say I've got talent |
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And don't say I've got heart |
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And don't say that I'm clever cuz I know I'm pretty smart |
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I'm smart enough to know that I'm too stupid to admit |
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You can't survive a diet that consists of eating shit |
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The trick is knowing when it's time to pack your bags and say "that's it!" |
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You know what's gonna happen |
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I know what's gonna happen |
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Here's what's gonna happen |
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I quit! |
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I quit! |
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I quit! |
