It's not me, it's you. Actually, it's the taxidermy of you and me. Untie the balloons from around my neck and ground me. I'm just a racehorse on the track, send me back to the glue factory. Always thought I'd float away and never come back. But I've got enough miles on my card to fly the boys home on my own But you know me: I like being all alone. And keeping you all alone. And the charts are boring, and the kids are snoring, and my ego’s in a sling. You say you're not listening and I said I'm wishing. And I said... I said