would you believe
 i'm not exactly what i'm supposed to be
 a grand cliche on holiday
 from what i read i guess a dead giveaway
 a reluctant dilettante
 with no favorite work of art
 or beloved poem that i wrote in rome  or somewhere
 i get every lesson a la carte
 and a purple heart starved for air
 je parle francais while i'm away
 though i never have a thing to say
 what's up with me complatency
 far too obvious for you to agree
 an idiot savant wondering if he's dumb or smart
 struck by cupid's arrow
 or a poison dart filled with fear and how
 everything might fall apart
 ending at the start insincere
 what's up with me

 born a scorpio
 my deviations on display
 well i feel all wrong though i'm a-okay (so they say...)
 i know better than to act this way
 hell i put you on touche
 what's up with me

 champs elysee
 suddenly she's there
 telling me that i'm to blame
 je suis content
 getting what i want
 though i whisper the wrong name
 au revoir
 no small faux pas
 thinking of you