♪ Brainstorming,
habit forming,
battle warning,
weary winds,
the mannequin spewing spineless chilling lines,
the critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring
and really not an awful lot of fun.
Well who the hell can he be when he's never happy
and he doesn't even sit on toilet seats?
Or jesting,
never resting,
he must be very cunning to assume an air of dignity.
And bless us all
with his oratory prowess,
his lame brain antics and his jumping in the air.
And every night he's actually sane,
and so it must be all a game.
But you're wrong, Steve.
You see, it's only solitaire.