People sink your boat When you cut a tragic figure They drink their lemonade And throw you a line Boil your problem down To yes or no, what's the matter? They bomb your promenade And this makes it shine So you must play the comic If they want one And describe their moment When they're in one People pass you by Passing up the chance to know you They're irregular In the usual way You should crack a smile Once in a while, it makes you pretty It makes you want to give them A piece of your mind But they can't be people Not if I'm one If I have to be like them I'd rather be no one Couldn't make the scene Not with all the people looking All these connoisseurs On guard all the time Rather spend the day Blank as hell by the window Looking out of my Stained glass eyes La la la la la la la la la . . .
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