But, he always has good intentions, but sometimes too polite, but that's alright because hassle is hassle, he wants a quiet life, a house in the suburbs and a nice polite wife. And, he don't have to prove nothing, but he demands respect, "Why bother washing my fashion haircut huh? I must convey to the world that I really don't care...". And he dances when nobody's there. He can't dance if somebody's there, oh why do you care?
You really shouldn't care. He's an intelligent soul, but confused and metaphorically alone. Not really alone, you know, like - got lots of friends but no one understands him, that sort of depression a man can only bring on himself, or also known as, 'Wanker'.
The cattle are herded to the dance floor, singalong, singalong, singalong, 'cause it's the fucking law, go: "Laa La La Laa La La La Laa-aaa" ("Laa La La Laa La La La Laa-aaa"). He's gonna keep his head down, do just enough to get by. He makes big plans behind his bedroom door, but in the end he just sighs, "I'm gonna get a mortgage, get fat, never look back..."