Hero
A hospital at four-pm,
The surgeon staggered in
The scent of antiseptic cream
Was smothered by the gin
Which gushed out through the yellow teeth
As he tapped at his chin.
Despite the madness in his eyes
All you could do was grin.
You looked down at your bandages,
You looked up to his face,
You said “I'll level with you doc,
I just don't dig this place,
Everything here is sick and sad,
The decor's a disgrace.
“I hope you know your left from right,
I hope you know your game,
My hand here's messed up pretty bad
But I like it all the same.
Still, I could have been aborted,
I could have picked up some disease
From that black-eyed girl in Singapore
Who brought me to my knees.
Yeah, I could have been aborted,
I could have picked up some disease
And I'd be far worse off than this
So you do what you please.”
Oh, you're my kind of hero,
So brave and self-assured,
Your money where your mouth is,
Always living by the sword.
Yeah, you're my kind of hero,
So brave and self-assured,
You live your life 'tween joy and strife,
At least you're never bored.
The second after-breakup date,
A quiet coffee bar,
The ice queen takes a look at you
And asks you how you are
Before you can even answer
She picks at that old scar
She says “I was never happy,
I only felt bizarre.”
You looked that lady in the eyes,
You looked into her face,
You said “I'll level with you, girl,
I've given up the chase,
But don't you think I'm pining now,
'Cause you're a damned disgrace.
“You say you were never happy,
You say that I'm insane,
You convinced me you were happy
So you're the one to blame.
Oh, you should have been aborted,
Or murdered while you were a youth,
And I know you think I'm bitter and
I'm lazy and uncouth,
But you should have been aborted,
Or murdered while you were a youth
'Cause your flag-waving honesty
Will never tell the truth.”
Oh, you're my kind of hero,
So callous, so content,
For teasers and the liars
You have nothing but contempt
Yeah, you're my kind of hero,
So callous, so content,
Sunshine nor snow will stop the show;
That's how your life is spent.
A dark and dingy alleyway
Between you and your home,
There's three young men with switchblade smiles
And you are on your own
They say as they bring out their knives
“Your wallet and your 'phone.”
You looked the leader in the eyes,
You looked into his face,
You said “I'll level with you, friend,
I'm not an easy case,
So put away your little toys
And get out of this place.
“There's three of you and one of me
But I don't even care,
It makes no difference in the end
If I breathe blood or air.
Oh, you can have my telephone
And you can have my wallet, too,
When you pry it from my bleeding hand;
I leave the choice to you.
Yes, you can have my telephone
And you can have my wallet, too,
But you had better strike me dead
Or I will come for you.”
Oh, you're my kind of hero,
So brave and self-assured,
I think you'll live forever
Or at least 'til you get bored.
Yeah, you're my kind of hero,
So brave and self-assured,
Through hurricane and driving rain
Your boat is never moored.
Yeah, you're my kind of hero,
So brave and self-assured,
Your money where your mouth is,
Always living by the sword.
Yeah, you're my kind of hero,
So brave and self-assured,
You always said “Better of dead
Than living safe and bored.”