Who's watching the cars from the corner of cul-de-sacs?
Who's charging the lawns like an order to grow long?
Vain in my bare window
Aiming my telescope
I've been riding on my high horse
And I do wait all sullen and sodden above it all
About a mile
I will post up still on this pedastal that I built
And I build my anthills and the cities glow that are build with an enviable skill
Guess we're born out of gore
But I'm blessed with impermeable pores
What a show, my noble chromosomes in ordered rows
And I suffer fools like you
And I suffer fools all my life
And I will blow my hot air
Pulling ants from my hair in my armchair (in my armchair)

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