You gotta believe me, I'm doing my best

I apologize for all the flack I caught for dropping out

Yeh you kicked up a storm, but the winds have died down

I got a lot of bottles on account of this around.

I'm sorry I'm not him

The poet's right hand

The artistic little suffering son-of-a-working-man

You work yourself in, but it spits you right out

Why is it so hard?

I should've run you out of town!

If it looks like it is, then it probably ain't

The more than you talk the more my interest goes away

You work yourself in, but it spits you right out

Why is it so hard?

I should've run you out of town!