I am the statue trapped in a block of stone
on the side of the freeway
And when you drive past me going sixty-five
on your way to work
do you think your block is less immobile?
All the palm trees know only know one thing:
that the best view in LA is from the tops of their crowns
And as an ant I can tell you
that I don’t know what a palm tree is
nor do I care
my path was laid out before me long before I was born
So burn your tongue with a hot cup of coffee
with all the lesser men that comprise my friends
Our minds are smaller than our dicks
and our thoughts are dimmer than the LCD’s on our PDAs
I’ll try to be perfect like Jesus Christ
and leave my halo behind
‘cause I don’t need it in Hollywood
And you’ll try to be like Orson Wells
‘cause you think you're perfect
you can eat yourself to death since you’re never wrong
just don’t choke on the fish fingers –
you and I have a lot more of nothing to do tomorrow
