He moved to the place where we were ten years ago
Where the yellow wallpaper used to fall from the wall
He wore a golden watch which said quarter to twelve
He said, "I need some dust on my Dior, Gucci, Chanel"
Tonight a gla** of wine will stick in his hand
He'll look at greasy artists and then later he'll dance
Tryin' to look bored with a glance at his friends
For sure he's still got enough cash in his pants
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be bad than a prominent man
Six o' clock in the morning and I got him on my back
Smelling like pineapple and breathing down my neck
Telling me that the minister's daughter lies in his bed
Well, well, well, you can't always want what you get
He says, "You guys always need some money, don't you?
How about painting my walls in light blue?"
I say, "No, Mr Philistine", and he goes home again
Writing in his diary, he's depressive again
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be mad than a prominent man
Prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be mad than a prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be dead than a prominent man
I'd rather be glad