The imitation picks you up like a habit Writing in the glow of the TV's static Taking out the trash to the man Give the people something they'd understand A stickman flashing a fine-lined smile Junk bond trader trying to sell a sucker a style Rich man in a poor man's clothes The permanent installment of the daily dose And you tell off when you tell it like it is Your world's no wider than your hatred of his Checking into a small reality Boring like a drug you take too regularly The athlete's laugh, the broken crutch The first true love that folded at the slightest touch Brought down like an old hotel People diggle through rubble for things they can resell Happy holidays, said sick savior The leaving lover that I still favor I won't take your medicine, I don't need a remedy To be everything I'm supposed to be I don't want nobody else I can do it by myself We're meant to be together Now I'm a policeman directing traffic Keeping everything moving, everything static I'm a hitchhiker you'll recognize passing On your way to some everlasting Better sell it while you can Better sell it while you can Better sell it while you can Better sell it while you can