(time: 04:24)

(Lyrics: Martin Walkyier)
(Music: Graeme English)

Pray for my poor melancholy soul,
I've cried so many tears inside -
My head's a goldfish bowl.
A mood so deep - so far above you all,
With no one there to catch me if i fall.

This is your man in the street reporting,
And so far all we've got is that a regular guy is on a ledge up high -
He's had enough of the irregular lot.
And in the World exclusive live tonight
Brought to you via satelilite -
The last sane man heard frankly speaking
'bout the 'ups and downs' of leaping
He says...

(Chorus:)
I'm lighter than air - i haven't a care,
Still gravity poulls me under,
Credibility gaps - gullability fills -
They were bringing me down (no wonder)
Square pegs, round holes, last dregs, own goals
Monkey puzzle my fist won't fot inside
Every day nothing new, black and white deja-vu,
Makes me feel i wanna spread my wings and glide.

Should i look - should i leap from this unfairy story?
My life and my filofax flashing before me
Fly like a rock from the roof to the basement,
The last thing to go through my mind was the pavement!

(Falling out of love with life.)

Here's the latest news flash update
on the wall street situation
Seems he wants to have his song played live upon our T.V station
It's a lyric he just wrote
The bleatings of a social scapegoat,
Thirty years under the weather - at the end of a SHORT TETHER
it goes...

I'm lighter than air - i haven't a care,
Still gravity poulls me under,
Credibility gaps - gullability fills -
They were bringing me down (no wonder)
Square pegs, round holes, last dregs, own goals
Monkey puzzle my fist won't fit inside
Every day nothing new, black and white deja-vu,
Makes me feel i wanna spread my wings and glide.