The imitation picks you up like a habit. Writing in the glow of the TV static
Taking out the trash to the man. Give the people something they understand
A stick man flashing a fine-line smile. Junk bond trader tryin'a sell a sucker a style
Rich man in a poor man's clothes. The permanent instalment of the daily dose
And you tell off when you tell it like it is. Your world's no wider than your hatred of his
Checking into a small reality. Boring as a drug you take too regularly
The athlete's laugh, the broken crutch. The first true love that folded at the slightest touch
Brought down like an old hotel, people digging through the rubble for things they can resell
"Happy holidays", said sick savior, the leaving lover that I still favor
I won't take your medicine, I don't need a remedy to be everything I'm supposed to be
I don't want nobody else; I can do it by myself. We're meant to be together
Ah, ah
Now I'm a policeman directing traffic, keepin' everything moving, everything static
I'm the hitchhiker you recognize passing on your way to some ever-lasting
Better sell it while you can. Better sell it while you can
Better sell it while you can. Better sell it while you can
Junk Bond Trader Lyrics performed by Elliott Smith are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Junk Bond Trader Lyrics performed by Elliott Smith is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD