| The other night I had a crazy dream
|
| 'Bout a man in a fishing hat selling magazines
|
| All the way from Kingston he’d worked his way down
|
| I bought him a drink on the night they kicked him out of town
|
| He said, «You know I don’t like the way I am.»
|
| «No, I don’t like the way I am.»
|
| And I saw an old fisherman out swayin' on a dock
|
| Swigging a jug of something and a string of fish that he had caught
|
| His wife had left him just a week before
|
| She packed up her bags and waltzed on out the door
|
| She said, «You know I don’t like the way I am.»
|
| «No, I don’t like the way I am.»
|
| And then she cried
|
| And you and me walked down the shores of our youth
|
| Chasing the sunrise, challenging the truth
|
| It’s all so distant now I’ve seen too many lies
|
| Turning my vision into crumbling demise
|
| Makes me wanna say
|
| You know I don’t like the way I am
|
| No, I don’t like the way I am
|
| But I’m gonna change the way I am
|
| I’m gonna change the way I am |