Dancing Choose

He's a what? He's a what?

He's a newspaper man

And he gets his best ideas

From a newspaper stand

From his boots to his pants

To his comments and his rants

He knows that any little article will do

Though he expresses some confusion

'Bout his part in the plan

And he can't understand

That he's not in command

The decisions underwritten

By the cash in his hand

Bought a sweater for his weimariner, too

Now I'm no mad man

But that's insanity

Feast before famine

And more before family

Goes and shows up with

More bowls and more cups

And the riot for the last hot meal erupts

Corrupts his hard drive

Through the leanest months

Shells out the hard cash

For the sickest stunts

On aftershave, on gasoline

He flips the page and turns the scene

In my mind, I'm drowning butterflies

Broken dreams and alibis

That's fine

I've seen my palette blown to monochrome

Hollow heart clicks hollowtone

It's time

Eye on authority

Thumb prints a forgery

Boy, ain't it crazy what the lights can do

For counterfeit community

Every opportunity

Wasted as the space

Between the flash tattoo

And the half-hearted hologram

Posed for the party

Now he gloss full bleed

On a deaf dumb tree

Cod liver dollar signs

Credit card autograph

Down for the record, but not for freedom

Angry young mannequin

American, apparently

Still to the rhythm

Better get to the back of me

Can't stand the vision

Better tongue the anatomy

Gold plated overhead

Blank transparency

In the days of old, you were a nut

Now you need three bumps before you cut

Not that I should care about

Nothing I ain't scared of, but

I guess you had to be there

In my mind, I'm breeding butterflies

Broken dreams and alibis

That's fine

I've seen my palette blown to monochrome

Hollow heart clicks hollowtone

In time

I see you figured in your action pose

Foam-injected Axl Rose

Life size

Should something shake you and you drop the news

Lord, just keep your dancing shoes

Off mine