When I was 17 and feeling just a little bit bewildered

And cheated, and hungover, and the wake of adolescence

My recruiter took my number

And he grated my exam

He said you'd be a perfect soldier

Except you've got no depth perception

Said I wanna serve my country

And I got so much potential

He said what you lack in weight

You more than make up in density

You see I'd always suffered from a lack of self esteem

So if my country doesn't want me

Then I'll serve the Catholic Church

So I enrolled in seminary

Where I memorized the gospel

But they caught me reading on the road

And threw me on my ass

There were a bunch of other factors

Which I won't enumerate

So then I'm sitting at my parent's Norman Rockwell living room

And being still so as to hear my ego crashing in my ears

When the voice of reason says son

Have you thought about the future

And I get real sick

But now I'm fine

He's fine, he's really fine

I'm really fine

He's fine, he's really fine

By 23 I'd gained a sort of enigmatic drive

And having no success with suicide, I thought I'd turn to art

So I acquired a set of brushes, and I went without a bath

Which presumably implied I had a new set of beliefs

But I underestimated the important role of talent

Which was easily apparent from the record of my sales

And in the meantime I had severely strained

A muscle in my thigh, attempting to sustain the lotus

On a neighbour's kitchen table

In the hospital I thought of doing something for the world

But the peace corp didn't answer

So I joined a cooking school

Having always held, and cherished an affinity for food

But my self respect deflated with an under cooked souffle

So I was back to busing tables at the Denny's

In Salinas, where I sort of snapped

But now I'm well

He's well, he's really well

I'm really well

He's well, he's really well

Yeah it's a long story how I got to Saint How

But now I'm well

My mother always told me

To be more like my dad

I asked more like which one of the five that I had

She said a change is coming

Didn't go feeling so used

I said my only problem is I'm chronicley confused

On my 27th birthday

Which occurred about that age

I was talking to the analyst who found me selling incense

At an airport after having left the clinic

But a crisis, and some silly Venice metaphor

For a sinking in the soul, when my thought was interrupted

By a birthmark on my arm

Which looked a little like Nebraska

I'd forgotten about those two weeks of premed in junior college

Which I quit to study Judo

And I looked at all the meat, and marrow someone stuck together

All the veins and vital organs all have grey white and humming

And collaborating, and ticking, and recycling, and making that Nebraska on my arm a possibility

And I got up from the couch

And I shouted hey I own this thing

And my analyst suspected I was closing on the edge

And I convince dam when I said I wouldn't send him any money

He said don't go getting cocky

Because you had one revelation

Cause the only tool you go against psychosis is experience

And your's has all been bad

I said you're darn right

But now I'm good

He's good, he's really good

I'm really good

He's good, he's really good

I'm so darn good

He's good, he's so darn good

It took a long time for me

To wake up and see

I'm good