Poor You
Every morning he got up dreading each moment he had to be awake
He'd look at the floor and scribble on gum wrappers
He never found a better way to joke around
The clock would tick, time was slow
There wasn't anywhere that he wouldn't go to avoid
Having to see anyone
He'd sit in a chair and lean against the wall
He just didn't seem to matter much at all
But late at night, he had a savior
In his sleep, in his dreams
She came to him and she said
Poor you, poor you
No one understands you
Poor you, poor you
And every word that everyone would say
Got mumbled up in his head
Like mumblejumble and everywhere he went
It seemed everyone was saying to him
Blah Blah Blah
But late at night, he had a mistress
In his dreams, in his sleep,
And she would say
Poor you, poor you
No one understands you
Poor you, poor you
This story, though not well told, is not that old
It's not that funny, it's not that great
But I know it to be true
Because late at night, I have an angel
In my dreams, in my sleep
And as she runs her fingers through my hair
As I lay on her lap and she says
Poor you, poor you
No one understands you
Poor you, poor you
Pobrecito
Cada mañana se levantaba temiendo cada momento que tenía que estar despierto
Miraba el suelo y garabateaba en envoltorios de goma
Nunca encontró una mejor manera de bromear
El reloj marcaba, el tiempo era lento
No había ningún lugar que no fuera a evitar
Tener que ver a alguien
Se sentaba en una silla y se apoyaba contra la pared
No parecía importar mucho en absoluto
Pero tarde en la noche, tenía un salvador
En su sueño, en sus sueños
Ella vino a él y le dijo
Pobre de ti, pobre de ti
Nadie te entiende
Pobre de ti, pobre de ti
Y cada palabra que todos dirían
Se murmuró en su cabeza
Como mumblejumble y dondequiera que iba
Parecía que todo el mundo le estaba diciendo
Bla, bla, bla
Pero tarde en la noche, tenía una amante
En sus sueños, en su sueño
Y ella decía
Pobre de ti, pobre de ti
Nadie te entiende
Pobre de ti, pobre de ti
Esta historia, aunque no está bien contada, no es tan antigua
No es tan gracioso, no es tan genial
Pero sé que es verdad
Porque tarde en la noche, tengo un ángel
En mis sueños, en mi sueño
Y mientras ella pasa sus dedos por mi pelo
Mientras yacía en su regazo y ella dice
Pobre de ti, pobre de ti
Nadie te entiende
Pobre de ti, pobre de ti