Dead in the water It's not a paid vacation The sons and daughters of city officials Attend demonstrations It's hardly a sink or swim When all is well if the ticket sells Out with a whimper It's not a blaze of glory You look down from your temple As people endeavor to make it a story And chisel a marble word But all is lost if it's never heard But I've got someone to make reports That tell me how my money's spent To book my stays and draw my blinds So I can't tell what's really there And all I need's a great big congratulations I'll keep your dreams You pay attention for me As strange as it seems I'd rather dissolve than have you ignore me The ground may be moving fast But I tied my boots to a broken mast The difference is clear You throw it in your cauldron Rust and veneer, dusk and dawn Steinways and Baldwins You start with a simple stock of all the waste And salt to taste But damn my luck and damn these friends That keep on combing back their smiles I save my grace with half-assed guilt And lay down the quilt upon the lawn Spread my arms and soak up congratulations