The Vowels, Pt. 2

I'm not a ladies man, I'm a landmine

Filming my own fake death

Under an '88 Cavalier I go

But-but-but-but nothing but the rear bumper's blown

But I's born for this flight

United 955 on the fifth of July

Back to SFO

I-I join the dark side

In a thin disguise

On consumer grade video at night

Faking suicide for applause

In the food courts of malls

And cursing racing horses on church steps

Playing the wall at singles bingo

All-time gringo

Did anyone hear me cry there?

Through a toilet stall divider

I swear I care, raw

Am I an example of a calculated birth?

To a star chart for clowns, I'm not

Under robin eggs in a nest, you hit a manila envelope

With one last little robin's egg in it

A hollow bullet yet spent

Subject to dismissal

I wish all my pitfalls

Could be caught by this call

Cheeri-a, cheeri-e, cheeri-i, cheeri-o, cheeri-u