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Hi, how are you? |
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Every morning he got up |
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Dreading each moment he had to be awake |
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He’d look at the floor and scribble on gum wrappers |
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He never found a better way to joke around |
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The clock would tick, time was slow |
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There wasn’t anywhere that he wouldn’t go |
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To avoid having to see anyone |
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He’d sit in a chair and lean against the wall |
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He just didn’t seem to matter much at all |
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But late at night, he had a savior |
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In his sleep, in his dreams |
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She came to him and she said |
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Poor you, poor you |
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No one understands you |
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Poor you, poor you |
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And every word that everyone would say |
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Got mumbled up in his head |
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Like mumblejumble and everywhere he went |
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It seemed everyone was saying to him |
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Blah blah blah |
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But late at night, he had a mistress |
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In his dreams, in his sleep |
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And she would say |
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Poor you, poor you |
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No one understands you |
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Poor you, poor you |
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This story, though not well told, is not that old |
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It’s not that funny, it’s not that great |
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But I know it to be true |
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Because late at night, I have an angel |
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In my dreams, in my sleep |
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And as she runs her fingers through my hair |
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As I lay on her lap and she says |
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Poor you, poor you |
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No one understands you |
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Poor you, poor you |