The Common Touch

I came out of my mother
Renowned for compounding numbers,
Came out of my mother
With a head blessed with figures
And with yours now above me
Both long and unlovely
I think we can safely say
Such sums must become me
A kiss as disingenuous as this
You know what I am
So let’s not pretend
Your short on grace
But you’ve an empty space
And I fit just right
Yes, I fill just right…
Right
Right
I came out of my mother
As pure as power
You’re delicious and desperate
And god knows where your dress went
Still smug and smart
Well bless your precious heart
Would I stay the night?
Might I stay the night…
Forgive me if I
Respectfully decline
'Cause there’s just no time
And I’ve got my pride
While wealth and waste may breed expensive taste
It’s true what they say
Take pleasure from the simple things
You pass along the way
Should fortunes fade--of course they do recede
We feign no feinted praise,
But pity not the pretty things
You break along the way
There’s pleasure in the simple things you break
Take pleasure from the simple things you break