Margot Kidder

You wouldn’t know it to look at me,
but I’m a superhero
I’ve got x-ray vision and everything.
My frail frame belies my strength
I can lift tall buildings
with one hand tied behind my back.
But the morning after each episode
I wake up at home, alone.
Despite my mediocre looks,
I’m daily dared by damsels
to fight international crime.
In the end I always win the day
I save the world, I get my girl.
But the morning after each episode
I wake up at home, alone.
The comfort of knowing that
I’ve saved you all wears thin.
My superhuman efforts largely go unrewarded.
The government won’t take my phone calls.
On my days off I hang around the centre of town,
but I don’t get stopped.
But the morning after each episode
I wake up at home, alone.
The comfort of knowing that
I’ve saved you all wears thin.
The day after each episode
I wake up and wish that I
wouldn’t be expected to get out of bed and help mankind.
I’d comb my hair a little differently and put on some glasses,
find somewhere to hide,
tell the United Nations they’ve got the wrong number and I’d live a quiet life.
And I’d live a quiet life.