(Don Breithaupt)

Went through a box of three-ply tissues
Talking about my commitment issues
The doctor told me
Sold me on the notion
I was getting in the way
Of my happiness

Those little things that used to drive you crazy
Baiting your friends and being stone-cold lazy
One by one
They disappear and here
You see an ordinary fool
At the wrong address

’Cause the best I’ve ever been
Is the way I was with you
But I stopped my fondest dreams
Coming true
And if you check me out again
You’re gonna like what you see
New flare/hair/air and new integrity
Now that I’m trying so hard to be
The thinking man’s me

Remember the time I dissed your daddy
Smoking his pipe in that long black Caddy
Cocktails at the country club
A snub was soon detected
In my eyes
It was not my scene

And now that I know what a purebred pooch is
To tell you the truth, I prefer my Stooges
Curly, Larry, Moe
They show a certain joie de vivre
You can’t disguise
On a plasma screen

You wish me good luck dear
I open the door for you
William Buckner
Wouldn’t have let you through