Better Things

Compensation for the little man
Just ain’t what it used to be
Hillside lounge at the edge of town
A breathing man you’d swear was dead
He’s alone — in smoke that turns to stone
He lives a lie
Sailing sunsets on a carbon heart
Can burn away just like your dreams
Underpaid and you can’t get laid
A meteoric fall from grace
Have you any secrets to share
For bailing out when you were scared
Image is not enough
I know there’s better things
There’s a man who lives in Hollywood
And he don’t know his time is gone
Seems just fine while he blows his mind
But that don’t count when you can’t score
He’s around — a ghost in his ghost town
He will shine no more