Song parody of
Everyone's a Critic (Picaresque)
by Luc Emmanuel
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I'm flat out of pocket and I'm crossing the tracks
To the high tone part of town
I'm the low down rescue from the garbage can
They don't want my kind around
The muscle on the door
He can't find my name
That's ok, I got my invitation here
He sees my greasy hair, he sees the stitches on my face
He waves me through, and he gives me a sneer
You know they don't fight fair
Everyone's a critic, everyone's a critic
Nobody said I had to care
Here comes the doctor, hey, I know him pretty well
They say he makes the grown men cry
He's got million dollar nails and designer skin
Pulled tight across his plastic eyes
He chairs the Boring Gentlemen Society
He's the darling of the DMRC
I met his chewing gum children, and I met his bat-faced wife
He ain't no hero to me
You know they don't fight fair
Everyone's a critic, everyone's a critic
Nobody said I had to care
Now it's late, I'm on my way back across those tracks
To tear it up on a Saturday night
I see the boozers and the cruisers, and their cigarette packs
And the brawlers under rusty lights
I got silverware in pocket, wallets, watches, and keys
And half the toys in the Lost and Found
I wave 'Hello' to the stoners, and they wave back at me
You know it's good to be back in town
You know they don't fight fair
Everyone's a critic, everyone's a critic
Nobody said I had to care
I'm flat out of pocket and I'm crossing the tracks
To the high tone part of town
I'm the low down rescue from the garbage can
They don't want my kind around
The muscle on the door
He can't find my name
That's ok, I got my invitation here
He sees my greasy hair, he sees the stitches on my face
He waves me through, and he gives me a sneer
You know they don't fight fair
Everyone's a critic, everyone's a critic
Nobody said I had to care
Here comes the doctor, hey, I know him pretty well
They say he makes the grown men cry
He's got million dollar nails and designer skin
Pulled tight across his plastic eyes
He chairs the Boring Gentlemen Society
He's the darling of the DMRC
I met his chewing gum children, and I met his bat-faced wife
He ain't no hero to me
You know they don't fight fair
Everyone's a critic, everyone's a critic
Nobody said I had to care
Now it's late, I'm on my way back across those tracks
To tear it up on a Saturday night
I see the boozers and the cruisers, and their cigarette packs
And the brawlers under rusty lights
I got silverware in pocket, wallets, watches, and keys
And half the toys in the Lost and Found
I wave 'Hello' to the stoners, and they wave back at me
You know it's good to be back in town
You know they don't fight fair
Everyone's a critic, everyone's a critic
Nobody said I had to care
