Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Rod Bailey
Songwriter
Lyrics
I look forward through backwards binoculars
Tunnel vision when my mood's misanthropic cause
I nearly missed the bus and then the driver started with me
Questioning the one hundred and sixty pennies
That got plunked into the pot as fare
I'm like "What, you wanna count it? It's all there."
And they all stare so loudly
I stand odd man out of the seated crowd like musical chairs
Honestly it's unusual for me to care
But this is one of those affairs
That at first seemed so small
Picked up steam and snowballed
Some old bald bastard whose smell alone
Provokes groans barking into his cellular phone
I'm antsy choking on the "You gotta be kidding!"
And I gotta purse my lips to keep from spitting
But then my stop is within my vision
And I've got the sneaking suspicion
Aww shit it is him
This kid I battled years ago and he's tripping
Rocking a ribbon candy looking lace
Attached to a laminate in my face
Jawing about the slamming shit that replaced his old steez
Then condescendingly asks me if I still emcees
I didn't even mention the vinyl, tapes, and CDs
Just brushed past like breeze I had to diss
Walking away quickly like I had to piss
I'm comfy bellowing multisyllabic words in verse for crowds
Yet sometimes "hello" is the hardest word for me to pronounce
Especially if we've let the months mount
Crossing paths with bated breath waiting on the other to pounce
Some high at noon we're ten paces apart ready to draw
Then comes the onset of the lockjaw
And it's contagious
So we're stifled stuck at who's on first
It's outrageous comical and pathetic
When your worst case scenario is getting snubbed
Or greeting unreturned
But that's life when your skin's a sweater that itches and burns
I don't like me very much so I don't expect others
To smother me with praise shake my hand and call me brother
I got ex-lovers that I can't even look in the eye
Hoping I don't get punched out at the mall by her new guy
And sometimes I try to feign confidence
But my skittish movements betray me
Anxiety's dominance plays me like a fiddle
And the tune eked out is muted
I freaked out the host of the party and got booted
I was the creep who scooped up a lady and dirtied the host's
New linens before she got the chance to sleep in 'em
With all these fuck ups and hang ups they might think I'm stuck up
But I'm looking past 'em
And don't even try to say "What's up?"
But I got a whole gang of reasons
Why it's more like I'm dashing when I walk on by
Stepping to me like "What's up guy?"
I gotta walk on by
I alternate between staring at my shoes and the sky
As I walk on by
Watch me slide to stutter step from full stride
I gotta walk on by
It's envy, vanity, lust, sloth, and pride
Makes me walk on by
I might snub my nose then spit to the side
When I walk on by
Gulp some air then exhale it with a sigh
As I walk on by
Egg on my face and mud in my eye
When I walk on by
Wallowing in apathy and you can't make me try
To fix why I walk on by
Written by: Rod Bailey