Sometimes I feel like I shouldnt apologize so much
That its jive its a crutch
I just used when Im judged
Bein fudged by a face I cant erase and cant see
Cuz I misplaced a dossier or Monty Python CD
Or somethin stupid like that
But jesus is that so bad
To make my ego go splat
Like a tire goin flat
Or fat on a big mac
Im bein attacked
Tit for tat
You fuckin bureaucrats
You can just apologize back
But I dont know when it comes and it goes
All the highs and the lows
In this motionless psychosis
Ieeieei and I die fadin straight away
Ieeieei and I cry every waking day
I dont know what else to say
Im sorry for the mess
The stupid way Im dressed
I guess I failed my test
Oh dont you know Im sorry for my views
I musta been confused
And yet you know that really Im sorry for you
Well now I dont mean to offend, much
Just comprehend
When youre female and youre fenced in and
Phen-phened to no end
And no zen guide to men will help you fend off the brethren
And then the pen appears
And better than the oxygen network
Or the sword or the spear or the fork
Or the bored pork-fed horde
Its a mooring post
The whore youll miss the most when youre away
When youre in Snowshoe PA
Doin some play from Backstage
That deals with AIDS and race and gays and
Relationships and ballet
And then youre like "hey yay whatd you say?
I can just sing my troubles away?"
But then youre fucked
cause you gotta make a buck
And the whole world sucks
And youre like a lame duck
Thats lyin dyin tryin to sell out
But theres no one buyin and theres all this doubt
And you can preen and dream and scream and shot
But your lifes affliction is the fiction of Faust
Im sorry for the time
The stupid way I rhyme
I knew I shoulda chose a life of crime
Im sorry for my blues
I know its all old news
And yet you know that really Im sorry for you
Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry
I also mirror this apology
This idealogy of sorry
In part of the liberal theology thats leading us to hari-kari
Its like a mythology, almost
Like a malingering ghost
As we slowly decompose
Writing in the grave of the polls
Cryin for Senator Wellstone and then proceeding to moan
At our own supposed sabotage of the elections at home
"oh somebody phone home!
The American people have spoken!"
Now is that certain?
Maybe those nice Midwestern folks were just jokin
In any case theres no use in dopin chokin mopin and sobbin
Come on you disheartenin dobbins
Sayin sorry is my problem
So to conclude
Im a little of a prude
So its difficult for me to have to allude
To all this rude crude verbal baggage
But I manage cuz Im a savage inside
I may listen to Enyas greatest hits
And try to control my hissy fits with pride
Wont get my hair dyed
But oh the onus of lyin all the time
I dont wanna say, "diiiie motherfucker!"
But I wouldnt mind if you did
Sometimes even the nice girls ego has to override the id
And so before I flip my lid my crib
And get myself out of this bind
You can hear whats on my lips but you dont know
Whats in my mind
Im sorry for you Im sorry for you
Im sorry
Waaaah
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