Sari

Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't apologize so much

That it's jive it's a crutch

I just used when I'm judged

Bein' fudged by a face I can't erase and can't see

'Cause 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

I'm bein' attacked

Tit for tat

You fuckin' bureaucrats

You can just apologize back

But I don't 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 don't know what else to say

I'm sorry for the mess

The stupid way I'm dressed

I guess I failed my test

Oh don't you know I'm sorry for my views

I musta been confused

And yet you know that really I'm sorry for you

Well now I don't mean to offend, much

Just comprehend

When you're female and you're 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

It's a mooring post

The whore you'll miss the most when you're away

When you're in Snowshoe PA

Doin' some play from Backstage

That deals with AIDS and race and gays and

Relationships and ballet

And then you're like "hey yay what'd you say?

I can just sing my troubles away?"

But then you're fucked

'Cause you gotta make a buck

And the whole world sucks

And you're like a lame duck

That's lyin' dyin' tryin' to sell out

But there's no one buyin' and there's all this doubt

And you can preen and dream and scream and shot

But your life's affliction is the fiction of Faust

I'm sorry for the time

The stupid way I rhyme

I knew I shoulda chose a life of crime

I'm sorry for my blues

I know it's all old news

And yet you know that really I'm sorry for you

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

I also mirror this apology

This ideology of sorry

In part of the liberal theology that's leading us to hari-kari

It's 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 there's no use in dopin' chokin' mopin' and sobbin'

Come on you disheartenin' dobbins

Sayin' sorry is my problem

So to conclude

I'm a little of a prude

So it's difficult for me to have to allude

To all this rude crude verbal baggage

But I manage 'cause I'm a savage inside

I may listen to Enya's greatest hits

And try to control my hissy fits with pride

Won't get my hair dyed

But oh the onus of lyin' all the time

I don't want to say, "diiiie motherfucker!"

But I wouldn't mind if you did

Sometimes even the nice girl's 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 what's on my lips but you don't know

What's in my mind

I'm sorry for you I'm sorry for you

I'm sorry

Waaaah