(Mitch Allan)
I'm one of those things you'll save forever, but never need.
Like an old newspaper no one has time to read
This child has grown into a dead end
Since I lost the power to pretend
But it's all right, that's who I am inside
Not much to say on this non-toxic, ordinary day
That's no superhero standing right in front of us
So take this pocket full of Kryptonite and beat it back to Metropolis
There's only room for one on this microphone
In my finest hour I'm still alone
But old news can change, as memories float downstream
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