Every morning he got up dreading each moment he had to 
be awake

He'd look at the floor and scribble on gum wrappers

He never found a better way to joke around

The clock would tick, time was slow

There wasn't anywhere that he wouldn't go to avoid

Having to see anyone

He'd sit in a chair and lean against the wall

He just didn't seem to matter much at all

But late at night, he had a savior

In his sleep, in his dreams

She came to him and she said

Poor you, poor you

No one understands you

Poor you, poor you

And every word that everyone would say

Got mumbled up in his head

Like mumblejumble and everywhere he went

It seemed everyone was saying to him

Blah Blah Blah

But late at night, he had a mistress

In his dreams, in his sleep,

And she would say

Poor you, poor you

No one understands you

Poor you, poor you

This story, though not well told, is not that old

It's not that funny, it's not that great

But I know it to be true

Because late at night, I have an angel

In my dreams, in my sleep

And as she runs her fingers through my hair

As I lay on her lap and she says

Poor you, poor you

No one understands you

Poor you, poor you