Mad Man

Well now he's gone and done it 
He's not making much sense 
And all that whiny spiny bull 
That too won't make him much cents
He's always hurting and the worst 
Is how he sits on the fence 
He never makes his damned mind up 
Forever so dense 
Or maybe not because he's really not as dumb as he seems 
He merely drifts in and drifts out of
Superlative dreams 
Where everything that he thinks it is 
Is really the fake and everything 
That it is is on the verge of a break