| I’ve got a bitter pot of je ne sais quoi
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| Guess what, I’m stirring it with a monkey’s paw
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| Since I saw you coming out of my barber’s shop
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| In that skimpy little halter top
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| Did you light the candles?
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| Did you put on «Kind of Blue?»
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| Did you use that Ivy League voodoo on him too?
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| He thinks he’ll be alright, but he doesn’t know for sure
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| Like every other unindicted coconspirator
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| Mata Hari had a house in France
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| Where she worked on all her secret plans
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| Men were falling for her sight unseen
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| She was a genius
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| There’s a face in every window
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| Of the Songwriters' Neighborhood
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| Everybody’s your best friend when you’re doing well
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| I mean good
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| The poet who lived next door when you were young and poor
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| Grew up to be a backstabbing entrepreneur
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| Albert Einstein was a ladies' man
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| While he was working on his universal plan
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| He was making out like Charlie Sheen
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| He was a genius
|
| When you dropped me and you staked your claim
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| On a V.I.P. |
| who could make your name
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| You latched on to him and I became
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| A minor inconvenience
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| Your protege don’t care about art
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| I’m the one who always told you you were smart
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| You broke my heart into smithereens
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| And that took genius
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| You and the barber make a handsome pair
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| Guess what, I never liked the way he cut your hair
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| I didn’t like the way he turned your head
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| But there’s nothing I can do or say I haven’t done or said
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| Everybody needs a place to stand
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| And a method for their schemes and scams
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| If I could only get my record clean
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| I’d be a genius |