'Cuz I misplaced a dossier or Monty Python CD
I knew I shoulda chose a life of crime
Ieeieei and I die fadin' straight away
Come on you disheartenin' dobbin's sayin' sorry is my problem
I musta been confused
I can just sing my troubles away?" But then you're fucked
I musta been confused
To make my ego go splat like a tire goin' flat?
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry
I also mirror this apology, this ideology of sorry
To all this rude crude verbal baggage
And yet you know that really I'm sorry for you
I don't wanna say, "Die motherfucker"
But I wouldn't mind if you did
All the highs and the lows in this motionless psychosis
I'm sorry for the time, the stupid way I rhyme
Cryin' for Senator Wellstone and then proceeding to moan
Ieeieei and I die fadin' straight away
And get myself out of this bind
But I manage 'cuz I'm a savage inside
It's a mooring post, the whore you'll miss the most when you're away
It's like a mythology, almost like a malingering ghost
And then you're like, "Hey yay what'd you say?
So it's difficult for me to have to allude
And yet you know that really I'm sorry for you
So to conclude I'm a little of a prude
Bein' fudged by a face I can't erase and can't see
But I don't know when it comes and it goes
You fuckin' bureaucrats, you can just apologize back
As we slowly decompose, writing in the grave of the polls
Oh, don't you know I'm sorry for my views
Midwestern folks were just jokin'
But I don't know when it comes and it goes
In any case there's no use in dopin' chokin' mopin' and sobbin'
That deals with AIDS and race and gays and relationships and ballet
Well, now I don't mean to offend much, just comprehend
Or fat on a big mac, I'm bein' attacked, tit for tat
Won't get my hair dyed
Oh, don't you know I'm sorry for my views
Sometimes even the nice girl's ego has to override the ID
I'm sorry for my blues, I know it's all old news
At our own supposed sabotage of the elections at home
You can hear what's on my lips but you don't know
And then the pen appears and better than the oxygen network
All the highs and the lows in this motionless psychosis
I'm sorry for the mess, the stupid way I'm dressed
Ieeieei and I cry every waking day, I don't know what else to say
But oh, the onus of lyin' all the time
'Cause you gotta make a buck and the whole world sucks
Or somethin' stupid like that but Jesus, is that so bad
And yet you know that really I'm sorry for you
When you're in Snowshoe PA doin' some play from Backstage
Or the sword or the spear or the fork or the bored pork-fed horde
I'm sorry for the mess, the stupid way I'm dressed
I may listen to Enya's greatest hits
And you're like a lame duck that's lyin' dyin' tryin' to sell out
I guess I failed my test
Now, is that certain? Maybe those nice
And try to control my hissy fits with pride
Oh somebody phone home, the American people have spoken
But there's no one buyin' and there's all this doubt
But your life's affliction is the fiction of Faust
I guess I failed my test
And no zen guide to men will help you fend off the brethren
And so before I flip my lid, my crib
In part of the liberal theology that's leading us to hari-kari
When you're female and you're fenced in and phen-phened to no end
And you can preen and dream and scream and shot
What's in my mind
Ieeieei and I cry every waking day, I don't know what else to say
