You Don't Know My Name

Driving down the boulevard on thursday afternoon
A german shepherd’s yappin' like a saturday cartoon.
Saw you at the record store posing for the press,
Smiling like a buddah in a purple minidress.
You can’t talk my talk
You can’t walk my walk
You can’t feel my pain
You don’t know my name
You’re dancing like a diplomat in bruno magli shoes
I’m living at the laundramat and trying to stay amused
A silver dollar in your mouth and an apple in your hand
And your throwing me an anchor as i swim to viet nam.
It might be jimmy hoffa, it might be jesus christ
Emperor of millions with a bowl of dirty rice.
Know that he’s deceitful, know he can be sly
Damn sure know he’s tricky and know the reason why.