There's a man mopping his brow after
    a Nobel-worthy experiment.
And there's a man mopping the floor after
    he leaves.

There's a man who has a scoop on a
    thrilling story.
And there's a man scooping ice cream,
    yearning to find a thrill in it.

There's a man picking a new car,
    a fiery red convertible.
And there's a man picking grapes,
    his back burning on fire.

There's a man singing his lungs out for
    thousands of people.
And there's a man singing away in the mines,
    his lungs already out.

There's a man who makes life happen
    with his wallet,
And there's a man who can't afford to,
    a circumstance made by life.

There's a man.
And there's a man.