High upon a pedastle
Lonley where he stands
The golden boy
Pearly eyed
Cries into his hands
The tears clatter on the marble
Far down on the floor
All his efforts seen for naught
Oh woe
What are they for?
Your creations are not good enough
I would never buy your art
No matter how little you want
Please don't take these words to heart
Not a man
Not a man
Not a man indeed
For there is a standard you must achieve
And that standard is me
All your work and your words
As fruitful as they seem
They'll never be worth a dime
Nor a cent to me.
The golden boy sits up high
Eyes with crystal sheen
The chandelier falls below
He lets fly a pathetic lonley keen.
