4 o'clock this morning
I was woken from a dream
In which my bones were re***embled
In a minor league museum

And blaze children with their worksheets
Had to find out who I was back then
When I used to walk the earth
Churning out my finely crafted songs

And sloping to the bathroom
Through the darkness of the landing
I sat down to have a piss
'Cause it was easier than standing

And imagined my exhibit being
Crated up for storage in an
Airtight ba*****t room
Archived where it probably belongs

I look at you and fail to understand
Just what it is that gives you wealth and fame
When so many people seem to have exactly what you've got
But somehow it never quite works out the same

Is it luck? Is it friends?
Or is it something more obvious that I can't see?
One thing I'm really certain about
It isn't aimed at guys like me

Is it only me that thinks you're an obnoxious poser?
Or does everyone else think so too?
Strutting around like you're gods gift to the world
While you disciples form a disorderly queue

Well, let me play devils advocate for a moment
And publicly state that you are s***
I can tell from the howls of disapproval
That I'm in a minority of one, yeah

And now I'm through with avuncular diplomacy
I've stopped saying 'I think I need to hear some more'
'Cause this stuff is rubbish, I can't stand it that's that
And I don't care if I sound like a dinosaur

I never thought I'd come across like my dad
When I played my Ackles, my love and my shy limbs
All I can say, is I suddenly looking in the mirror
And I found I'd turned into him