a boy in a man's coat sings to his lover
mild melodies of stories once lived by another
he lies in balboa with a clock in his pocket
and a vice 'or his crown he's afraid to be caught in
for the routine of his selfish life

sits in the wallet of his oblivious wife a girl in ladies boots sits 'affront the cafe
her kind eyes are glazed by her husbands sorry display
he hoists his venom above her long lost purpose
a master of marionette strings playing on her conscience

for he will be left with no one to blame
if she stops riding his bicycle of shame

the boy sits atop his castle of sand
mocking the minions in his conquered land
he coughs at their smoke and laughs and their pain
he breaks them like glass and stains them in frames

and he hangs them on walls
to make him feel tall
when he's become so numb
he can feel nothing at all