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It's twenty of seven And still you haven't come by I'm trying to keep my hands held steady As I balance salt shakers And the border patrol's trying to find a foothold Against a virus Keep seeing scenes from last night Where I can't buy my way into your sight The jokes went across me above me behind me I was novelty an audience a tourist economy And so I spoke a little too loud And I cleared my throat a lot And when you lost me for a minute in a crowd Your disembodied laughter hit me like a gunshot whoo -- Now I declare myself out of reach Eye contact's a contract and you are in breach And I will beat my pride down And I won't serve your world as a clown -- And I'm not talking about any of those Bemused field studies Dripping down that Anglo-Saxon nose Pooling at your feet And I will beat whatever may rise down And I won't serve your world as a clown
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