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