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Brendan Benson » Jet Lag
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My so-called friends Where are they now? I guess a love that bends Isn't worth much anyhow The come and go They talk their shit And when I really need to know All I get is spit in my eye But the less I know, The better, the faster I go, jet-setter I chase around the world But I never get the girl But I don't let it bother me I cut out any part of me That's been bruised, and refused, and misused or confused Oh, some people wanna know All about my history And no one seems to care That none of it's noteworthy But I talked so much, as it were That I made the local news: "The boy has got the magic touch And he can't ever lose" My present situation Is no longer inspiration My precious generation Is killing their time And behind their backs I'm slipping through the cracks And it doesn't really matter if You won't have any part of this My scheme I've devised Where my team is disguised And we seem like ordinary guys But surprised I'm hardly phased anymore By your classless ways It takes more than that to amaze me These days I'm so messed-up Never know what time it is Jet lag's the price to pay to play show biz, kid And I stayed up late The night before I slept the whole way on the plane And now my neck is sore (C'mon now) Da da da da da da, ahh...
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