| I’m sick of only making peanuts.
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| I’m sick of stale sandwich bread.
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| I’ve got a plan to make it better
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| And it begins with a simple punch to my head.
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| Another count and I’m down but I’m wearing him down.
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| Keeping the faith that I’ve got what it takes.
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| Deride my pride but I’ll be alright.
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| I’ve got a Rocky II lunchbox with bills in it
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| And I’ll scrape by.
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| I have seen this on some episode
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| Of Maude, Fish, Chips, or the White Shadow
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| Rerun in my mind a thousand times
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| Though I forget the channel.
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| But I am back in my corner with ice packs and water
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| The champ’s right hook changing my good side to bad.
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| Too late to make a run for the van
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| The doc leans in timidly asking about my health plan
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| I can see the referee wants to go home
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| (homey's got a wife and family)
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| And my detractors clap their hands and blow their smoke
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| (Headline news in next day’s sportspage.)
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| With every second that goes by
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| I don’t mind my swollen eyes.
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| 'Cause I bet on myself and I’m making a killing.
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| My opponent planned victory, I planned to lose. |
| My bookie is crying, my wife thinks I’m dying
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| But I’ve got a nest egg that’s hatching in the final round.
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| And as I fall to the floor I don’t feel so hardcore
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| My teeth swinging loose like a drunk girl’s caboose
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| My boys in the corner are pensive and somber
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| And Father O’Reilly is crossing himself more and more
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| I can see the referee want to go home
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| (Homey's got a wife and family)
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| And my detractors move their feet and blow their smoke
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| (Headline news in next day’s sportspage).
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| 'Cause I bet on myself and I’m making a killing.
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| My opponent planned victory, I planned to lose.
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| My bookie is crying, my wife thinks I’m dying
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| But I’ve got a nest egg that’s hatching in the final round.
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| And the room spins round and round…
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| The victory party’s at my place
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| After my loss and my disgrace.
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| 'Cause I bet on myself and I’m making a killing.
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| My opponent planned victory, I planned to lose.
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| My bookie is crying, my wife thinks I’m dying
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| But I’ve got a nest egg that’s hatching in the final round.
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| You should’ve never come back. |