Well I spin round the room, 
Stare at somebody else, 
But I think that sometimes, 
I embarass myself. 
 [bad word] in and out 
And guessing just when to laugh, 
Timing all my entrances, 
And talking too fast. 

Yes I trip over something 
And sleep on the mat, 
Cracking those rancid jokes, 
That always fall flat. 

Feeling like the sun who rose 
To find it three o' clock, 
The sun who rose the greener self 
And found it's too hot. 

Like a paupers dying daughter, 
Whose counting what she's got, 
Like a [bad word] actress 
Whose finding she's not 

Well your book sure is good 
Always said it would be, 
And thanks for selling 
All the world, 
The ins and outs of me. 

Well you never spared a feeling, 
Never thought that you would, 
But when I get to thinking, 
I still reckon it was good. 

Like a paupers dying daughter, 
Whose counting what she's got, 
Like a [bad word] actress 
Whose finding she's not 

Well I spin round the room, 
Stare at somebody else, 
But I think that sometimes, 
I embarass myself. 
 [bad word] in and out 
And guessing just when to laugh, 
Timing all my entrances, 
And talking too fast, woo.