Two fistfuls of a college degree
Four years sucking the blood out of things
Eight times fired since last December
Eight times no longer a paycheck maker
Hey Mister Waiter, why you not me?
Hey Curator, why you not me?
Silver platter out-of-stater?
Anyone who anything for money everydayer?
Why you and not me, you never me?
Why you and not me, you never me?

They look out the window where I busk on the corner
Wind in my hair, shirt all torn up
Counting every hand-tossed quarter
And they think, Why you?
Why you not me where the grass grows green?
You not me in the sun’s setting light?
You not me outside, outside?

Me, not you, walks through the park.
The trees are continually out of work.
I sit and write on a wet storm drain
And water seeps through my pants
to my hundred thousand dollar brain

Can’t you see what I want to be?
In five years I see myself as you, not me.
You, you not me, you and never me.
You, you not me, you and never me.

But you are not me, and you will never be.
You are not me, and you will never be.