No one's famous, we're all strangers



Now I can't even talk to you



No one's famous, we;re all contagious



And I'm scared that i'm losing you

I was working on my wish list, Count of Monte Cris list, 



more or less a diss list



That's comprised of several enemies maybe you'll remember me



A little on the small side, treated like a fall guy, 



pretty much gun shy



But long before the cubicle you and I were beautiful

She said, she said, in a book all about it



I doubt you'd even understand

I'm talking bout the hard times, talking bout the long lines,



talking bout the stop signs



That are rolling headless m.i.a since the fall of yesterday



Now i'm sitting on a landmine, soaking in the sunshine, 



looking for my lost prime



That's hanging in museums, ya, looks like i'll be seeing ya

If we're choosing sides, then here's goodbye



If we're choosing sides, then here's goodbye