If the day off doesn`t get you
Then the bad reviewer does
At least you`ve been a has been
And not just a never was
And you know it`s not a mountain
But no mole hill is this big
And you promise to quit drinking
As you light another cig
Once again you`re in the home stretch
But you`re not sure where you live
You recall a small apartment
And a government you give
Large amounts of money to
So you`re allowed to stay
And rest until you`re well enough
To leave again and play
You are making human contact
With the postcards that you send
To the children of your ex wifes
And a woman your girlfriend
Who is living in a city
Thousands of miles away
That is full of young male models
Not all of whom are gay
In the meanwhile you`ve stopped writing songs
There`s nothing left to say
You`d like to get your old job back
and mow lawns again one day
But you keep lifting up your left leg
Sticking out your tongue
There`s nothing else that you can do
And you`re too old to die young
Too many beds too many towns
Not much to declare zones
London broils and Tuna Melts on dirty microphones
While the sound man`s falling fast asleep
The light man`s been up for days
The club owner and arithmetic
Have long since parted ways
As for the lovely audience
Tonight they`re rather cold
But they`re prepared to listen
All they have to be is told
If the day off doesn`t get you
Then the bad reviewer does
At least you`ve been a has been
And not just a never was