I need a new soap box.
My old one broke.
Did I get too heavy?
Or was my old one a joke?
I was pointing my finger
thinking no one could see.
If they was looking where I was pointing,
they weren’t looking at me.
I was right about the moon though.
I was wrong about the heart.
I couldn’t see my shadow.
I was living in the dark.
Glad I didn’t make it big, whoa,
they would’ve called it art.
And then I wouldn’ta had this
fresh chance to start.
I’m glad I never won the lottery.
Could I be corrupted?
Oh, absolutely.
I’m glad the Lord has mercy.
Now I need a new suit.
One you’d wear to a ball.
Not in front of a judge
or to a funeral.
One that fits right
and let’s me breathe.
You can make it bright white.
I’ll be keeping it clean.
I just keep on thinking
of that poor pioneer.
Made it all the way to the coast,
paced til he built a pier.
He kept on building
til he couldn’t touch down
where that poor pioneer
he sank and drowned.
I’m glad I never won the lottery.
Could I be corrupted?
Oh, absolutely.
I’m glad the world has beauty.
Ain’t it also strange?
Like living in a circus
where lions tamed
are singing in the chorus.
I changed my name
and wound up in a forest
all riddled with shame,
I done none of it for us.
I’da probably been wicked
if had been King
or made unseeable
by some magic ring.
I’m not saying I’m evil.
I don’t even think I’m mean,
but even ordinary men
might have to be redeemed.
I’m glad I never won the lottery.
Could I be corrupted?
Oh, absolutely.
I’m glad I’m not the only.