Average Working Man

Uh-oh!

Young man on slum dog street

All week worked flesh to bone

To see the evening show

Up in the slum dog seats

So sick of the front row

He's God's message to the high-class folk

You're not flying high, your sky is low

Like making angels out of crows

Look out! It's your average working man! Uh-oh!

Locked up on slum dog row

Somehow he feels more free

They ask how this should be

He tells them, I felt like a wrong note

When no one's listening (when no one's listening!)

I made my master piece (now you're the ones out of key!)

Tired of getting by on your pills and dope

While you're getting high on my bills and loans

Look out! It's your average working man! Uh-oh!

Ah, he's a hero inside of his head

Loaded up on the words that they said

Ammunitional thoughts to lay dead, dead, dead! Uh-oh!

I am the prodigal son, the fucking chosen one

Of all the never-beens, the never-wills, the no-ones

Lost ones will be forgiven by all the underlivings

I'm just a whore for the working class villains

Sincerely, your average working man! Uh-oh!

I'm just your average working man! Uh-oh!