A Promise To Distinction

One I was younger than

The youngest of fragile minds

I ate the day with bad manners

Then spit out the rind

And mother told me

As I looked to the sky

Yes my mother told me "My dear son,

You're not the one"

I flew from home when I was just twenty-one

Young enough to be the feather of someone

I've got a conch pissed with conch republic rum

My father by my side, teary-eyed, he said:

"Son, by god what I could have done,

And you're just like me,

You can really put 'em down

oh if I was in your place I'd stay, have fun

But I'm not the one"

Now I'm sitting here

Haggling over sums

Of money made by someone else

To me it don't belong

I toss a smile to the mighty boss

He's my God

But I'm a bit backwards

And I know he's just a fucking dog.