Lyrics

I sound like Michael Stipe
And I dream like Carl Jung
And I look just like a showgirl who sleeps with her make-up on
And I’m ready for the footlights to play the part I’m cast
I may not be a star, but I’m happy at last

I dance like Billy Budd
And I pray like Dinah Shore
I disappear like Garbo
But I come back wanting more
And I don’t know where I’m going
I’m running out of cash
I may not be well off, but I’m happy at last
No, I may not be well off, but I’m happy at last

I’m not as smart as the Sunday Times crossword puzzle
Big words get me into trouble
I never see the light shine down I burn too fast
I may be pale, but I’m happy at last
I’m happy at last

I have a friend back home
Who likes to sleep all day
He packs his pipe, reflects on life
And dreams his debt away
He still lives with his parents
Just like he always has
He may not always know it, but he’s happy at last
No, he may not always know it, he’s happy at last
Happy at last X4