I.

So I'm sad
Sad at myself
Or better yet
Mad!
Yeah mad
I'm mad at myself
I'm a fool
An insect
The lowest form
I'm in the doldrums
I've got the grumps
the grumps man!
The grumps!

II.

it's two am and I still haven't found myself
readin' Kerouac
listening to Bobby D for months on end and I'm as lost as ever
but it's worst than that
I feel guilty
Guilty as the days grow longer
I'm twenty - haven't lived a single day
There's an old romantic image in my mind
'bout a long dusty road
heading from east to west
north and south and back again
a pretty little mexican gal sits picking tomatoes
The road leads through the gates of eden
I see the tambourine man in a long black coat
Writing something in the Chelsea hotel

III.

There's bars and insanity
But when I went insane there was nothing academic about it
Nothing to write about
I've got my nine to five routine
And I feel bad about it
I should be on that road
But I'm a mamma's boy
I won't drink and hoot unless the pepto's stocked and locked
Gently in the medicine cabinet

IV.

It hits me I'm not artist I ain't got the balls I hear a voice But it isn't mine And I'm the one talking

6/8/99