At the acme of his excellence
his shoe-heels were so worn off.
He was aiming for flood of fortune
and gravy train.
Can't see the bigger causes,
'cause he is so confused about bees knees.
He works hand in glove...
With himself.
Tries to understand the world
from inside of his small box.
Thinks everything he says
is like cat's whiskers.
Doesn't understand, is confused of
that I'm not interested.
Flood of fortune
I'm not aiming it.
Never gives up
but never wins either.
Just goes in the middle
so no-one will notice him before he's ready.
Ready, steady - go,
with one-way ticket in his breast pocket
he jumps on the gravy train.