Dead in the water

It's not a paid vacation

The sons and daughters of city officials

Attend demonstrations

It's hardly a sink or swim

When all is well if the ticket sells Out with a whimper

It's not a blaze of glory

You look down from your temple

As people endeavor to make it a story

And chisel a marble word

But all is lost if it's never heard But I've got someone to make reports

That tell me how my money's spent

To book my stays and draw my blinds

So I can't tell what's really there

And all I need's a great big congratulations I'll keep your dreams

You pay attention for me

As strange as it seems

I'd rather dissolve than have you ignore me

The ground may be moving fast

But I tied my boots to a broken mast The difference is clear

You throw it in your cauldron

Rust and veneer, dusk and dawn

Steinways and Baldwins

You start with a simple stock of all the waste

And salt to taste But damn my luck and damn these friends

That keep on combing back their smiles

I save my grace with half-assed guilt

And lay down the quilt upon the lawn

Spread my arms and soak up congratulations