Im Really Fine
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