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Why do I have to be me? Why can’t I be the clever one, The brainy one, The one I’d like to be? I’d like to be the one Who says the words: The clever witty things. But I end up just tongue-tied, And feeling very stupid. Poor Spot has some strange ideas Of a rosy, glamorous world And then other people come in And shit on my soufflé. I’m not a social animal, However hard I try. Perhaps that’s half the trouble. But why, oh why, oh why Am I the one Who always ends up crying? |
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