A Promise to Distinction

One I was younger than

The youngest of fragile minds

I ate the day with bad manners

Then spit out the rindAnd mother told me

As I looked to the sky

Yes my mother told me "My dear son,

You're not the one"I flew from home when I was just twenty-one

Young enough to be the feather of someone

I've got a conch pissed with conch republic rum

My father by my side, teary-eyed, he said:

"Son, by god what I could have done,

And you're just like me,

You can really put 'em down

oh if I was in your place I'd stay, have fun

But I not the one"Now I'm sitting here

Haggling over sums

Of money made by someone else

To me it don't belong

I toss a smile to the mighty boss

He's my God

But I'm a bit backwards

And I know he's just a fucking dog.