Junk Bond Trader - Elliott Smith

the imitation picks you up like a habit

riding in the glow of the tv static

taking out the trash to the man

give the people something they understand

mistake a nervous flash for a fine line smile

junk bond trader trying to sell a sucker a stock

rich man in a poor man’s clothes

the permanent installment of the daily dose

and you tell me, fool, you tell it like it is your word’s gone wider than your headtrip is checking into a small reality

void as a drug you take too regularly

the athlete’s laugh, the broken crutch

the first true love folded at the slightest touch

brought down like an old hotel

people digging through the rubble for things they can resell

«happy holidays,"said Sid the Saviour

believe in love I still favour

i won’t take your medicine, i don’t need a remedy

to be everything i’m supposed to be

i don’t want nobody else

i can do it by myself

we’re meant to be together

now i’m a policeman directing traffic

keeping everything moving, everything static

i’m the hitchhiker you’ll recognize passing

on your way to some everlasting…

better sell it while you can

better sell it while you can

better sell it while you can

better sell it while you can