My plans were foiled
I fell down on my knees
My clothes got soiled

I've got Art on the wall
The telephone never gets a call
I'm five nine and my problems
Are ten feet tall

Just like taking the grey
When you could have sun all day

I have the rhythm but I don't have the blues
When it comes to trouble well I'm bad news

I look to my left and I look to my right
The whole world is falling apart

Washington, a reality show has become
Everybody has tired of hearing 'you're fired'
And has been waiting on the roll of the drum

Google is there but which answer is true
And when they steal your writing
Do you really think you can sue