Mama don't understand; she wants to hold my hand night and day,
And she don't like my clothes, and they're wearing thin on her nerves,
And she don't like my hair, and my glorious crown kinda brings her down,
And she won't take me serious, no - think I'll join the circus, be a clown.

And they'll all laugh, they'll all laugh,
They'll all laugh,
It's not funny, no.

Oh, and I'm restless; wanna bust out of my skin,
Got a rocket in my pocket,
Got no fuel, no charted course, got no direction,
No, they did not give me those in school,
Yes, I've been a fool for cool,
But no kind of hair, no shoes, no jacket's gonna help me hack it, hack it,
I get to pieces, man; I've had it,
And you can have it.

Then I'll laugh, then I'll laugh,
Oh, I'll laugh; it's not funny, no,
It's not funny, no.

Well, I wonder what'll get me off, so I...I pick, and choose, and take,
And in a couple years, you're right, I'm left with a great big heartache,
So deep and wide that no matter what I stuff inside it's empty, just the way I came,
It's a crying shame, but all the same...

I laugh, yes, I laugh,
Oh, I laugh; it's not funny at all.

Should I recall all the people I have hurt along the way?
Should I try to justify every wrong I did not right?
But two wrongs don't make it right, and so it keeps me up at night,
And then I lie awake, and while away the meanwhile,
And meanwhile...meanwhile should I dwell on the baby that I killed or the drink I should have not refilled, and every heart I broke in two and left to die, bleeding on the roadside?
Or I could sit and let my eyes get filled with mist for every dream that I have missed and every girl that I should not have kissed, oh, and all the broken family ties, and the loved ones I have missed?
Yeah, I have mist...I have mist...I have mist in my eyes, and so I cry, but why should I, should I...

When I could laugh, I could laugh,
Oh, laugh, oh, laugh,
It's not funny,
It's not funny.

Oh, and every single thing I got I'm gonna lose,
Both good and bad will pass; and what next?
What lies beyond the broken dreams, shattered mirrors?
Broken dreams and shattered mirrors over and over, that I keep looking in to kinda check my luck or skill,
But only pride, yeah, pride,
Only pride...only pride keeps staring back.

And still I laugh, still I laugh.

Oh, but none of this, of course, will stand when I stand before the man on that great day of the great divide, when all the kings and queens are gonna have their closets emptied and...and the bones are all just gonna all fall out, yeah,
Them bones, them bones, them bones, them bones,
Them dry bones ain't gonna fail, no,
Dead men will tell tales.

And you can laugh, oh, and I can laugh,
We can laugh, laugh, laugh,
It's not funny,
We can laugh, laugh,
Over and over,
It's not funny, funny,
It's not funny, oh.

No amount of money will make it funny,
No amount of good times or dimes you spent will pay that rent, no.