Now hear this, Willy, this is me

I know you

You know why I had no address for three months?

I stole a suit in Kansas City and I was in jail

Stop crying, I'm through with it

I suppose that's my fault

I stole myself out of every good job since high school

And whose fault is that?

And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody

That's whose fault it is

I hear that (Don't, Biff)

It's Goddamn time you heard that

I had to be boss big shot in two weeks

And I'm through with it

Then hang yourself for spite, hang yourself

No, nobody's hanging himself

Willy, I ran down eleven flights with a pen in my hand today

And suddenly I stopped, you hear me?

And in the middle of that office building, do you hear this?

I stopped in the middle of that building and I saw the sky

I saw the things that I love in this world

The work and the food and time to sit and smoke

And I looked at the pen

And said to myself what the Hell am I grabbing this for?

Why am I trying to become what I don't want to be?

What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous, begging fool of myself?

When all I want is out there, waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am?

Why can't I say that, Willy?

The door of your life is wide open

Pop, I'm a dime a dozen, and so are you

I am not a dime a dozen