Dead in the water   It's not a paid vacation   The sons and daughters of city officials    Attend demonstrations   It's hardly a sink or swim   When all is well if the ticket sells      Out with a wimper   It's not a blaze of glory   You look down from your temple    As people endeavor to make it a story   And chisel a marble word   But all is lost if it's never heard      But I've got someone to make reports   That tell me how my money's spent   To book my stays and draw my blinds   So I can't see what's really there   And all I need's a great big congratulations      I'll keep your dreams   You pay attention for me   As strange as it seems    I'd rather dissolve than have you ignore me   The ground may be moving fast   But I tied my boots to a broken mast      The difference is clear   You throw it in your cauldron   Rust and veneer, dusk and dawn   Steinways and Baldwins   You start with a simple stock of all the waste   And salt to taste      But damn my luck and damn these friends   That keep on combing back their smiles   I save my grace with half-assed guilt   And lay down the quilt upon the lawn   Spread my arms and soak up congratulations