on the train, I've seen this movie before
it's the one with the midwest football hero
and the championship game when he scores
how dramatic, how cliché
and he gets the chick and she sucks his...
yeah, but they'll cut that part out anyway
but it's a picturesque burlesque
and I look out the window
a dozen silos poking up above the fog
and a man on a gravel path by the highway
as he jogs in the after-dawn
all those silos are all the same
all painted red and filled with grain
and he's running home to his ball and chain
run, boy, run
cause it's a picturesque burlesque
and all those silos are all the same but I count them
as they go flashing by I count them
one, two, three, four
why is everything a fucking bore?
and these photogenic freaks in their seats,
nervous as they're drifting in and out of sleep
they're all the same but I count them
they're all the same but I count them
one by one and two by two
everybody's got so much to prove
one by one and two by two
everybody's got so much to lose
one by one and two by two
everybody thinks they've got the blues
one by one and two by two
they're all the same but I count them
cause it's a picturesque burlesque
and I'm no different
but I think I am
ah, but I know I'm not
but I don't give a damn
a permanent fixture of regret

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN