the talent to ignore the glory of fools
the happiest boy in america
his bad days are blurred
so casual he is as they go by
how relaxed on a bomb and pleased with the world
the happiest boy in america
out on a limb, strung up by his toe
the trains don't stop running in america
a fox, a rat
he's saviorless as it's defined
didn't leave home a junkie but came home as one
the happiest boy in america
how he lived this long's a f*cking miracle
with a cocktail everyday
and the pleasure to play
not a wild eyed kid he's just a good boy
and with a grin
he'll roll over for the bone
reflecting on when his days wouldn't end
(reflecting back on when he was treated like a human being)
throughout lifes duress his veins wouldn't raise
the happiest boy in the world lives at the bottom