Confessions of an egotistical kind
Mirror, mirror above the bathroom sink
I talk to you because my shit does not stink
and I ask of you to show me why
The world doesn’t see I’m a hell of a guy
I have my walk, some might call a strut
That’s because everyone’s looking at my butt
Or how everyone swoons once they’ve heard
how wonderful I am with all these words
I speak clearly, concisely, and I don’t mumble
I try, but Lord it’s Hard to be Humble
I don’t shoehorn myself into tight jeans
partly because there’s more of me to squeeze
I was asked once, is it petit, or can I pet it?
Haha, yeah, you got it, that’s what she said
Of course you can pet it, but don’t be alarmed
when this beast grows, he means you no harm
and when you are done and put away wet
don’t you worry, this tongue isn’t done yet
and I pour myself into all of my art
because, well, I’m just so damn smart
And don’t worry about me getting a big head
just put your lips together and blow, instead
I talk my talk, and barely flex a muscle
even jealousy envies my kind of trouble
A little more bad, in my bad boy bank
still Mr. Niceguy, with a smile and thanks
Oh yes, I am the greatest, you didn’t know that?
I’m telling you your opinion, because it’s a fact
I’ve never met an intellectual pursuit
that was beyond me, or I couldn’t do
them’s the breaks, they say I know-it-all
when I make a mistake, they rush to watch me fall
such a spectacle because it happens so little
but it’s a bad investment, and interest dwindles
I don’t throw around my weight or my money
besides, I got your love, would you buy me that honey?
You don’t have to believe, whatever floats your boat
but I have you smiling at this long joke
the other thing, you see, the point to all this
well, I’m the greatest, and only, real fucking psychic