1
Through the door it slithers in,
Accompanied by its peers.
Always groveling for attention,
While no one really hears.
In its mind it's full of wit
And quite the social king.
It plants itself among the rest,
To give its deadly sting.
It's just a matter of opinion.
Further now there's a man of taste.
Of talent and precision.
To work and strive at his art form.
Has been his life's decision.
The stage is set. The perfect show
Is put before the mass.
Only to be ridiculed
By some slimy, pompous ass.
It's just a matter of opinion.
Accompanied by its peers.
Always groveling for attention,
While no one really hears.
In its mind it's full of wit
And quite the social king.
It plants itself among the rest,
To give its deadly sting.
It's just a matter of opinion.
Further now there's a man of taste.
Of talent and precision.
To work and strive at his art form.
Has been his life's decision.
The stage is set. The perfect show
Is put before the mass.
Only to be ridiculed
By some slimy, pompous ass.
It's just a matter of opinion.
Add your thoughts
Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.
Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!
I was actually sick as a dog that day. Still managed to find enough strength to drag my ass across a bridge in the dead of winter to buy two cds.
When I mean drag, I walked that day for some stupid reason thinking, Hey I just might feel better. No...No I did not feel better.