The Faker

I’m sitting in my cluttered den
And looking at the shelves again.
I’ve bowled and golfed and run and swum.
Plaques, ribbons, trophies, cups have come.
There aren’t any athletes here.
There aren’t any athletes here.
There aren’t any athletes here.
There’s only me.

I’m standing in this factory.
Four thousand people work for me.
They jump if I should snap my fingers.
Where I walk by, nobody lingers.
There aren’t any bosses here.
There aren’t any bosses here.
There aren’t any bosses here.
There’s only me.

I’m lying in this simple box
Dressed all in black down to my socks.
The room is filled with people crying.
You’d think somebody here was dying.
There are no dear departed here.
There are no dear departed here.
There are no dear departed here.
There’s only me.

I’m standing here upon a cloud.
St. Peter told me he was proud
To welcome me to this locale.
He hoped my wings were working well.
There aren’t any angels here.
There aren’t any angels here.
There can’t be any angels here!
There’s only me.

-Pono