Hi, how are you?
Every morning he got up
Dreading each moment he had to be awake
He'd look at the floor, scribble on gum wrappers
He never found a better way to joke around
The clock would tick and time would slow
There wasn't anywhere he wouldn't go
To avoid having to see anyone
He'd sit in a chair and lean against a wall
But that didn't seem to matter much at all
But late at night he had a savior
In his sleep, in his dreams
She came to him and she said
"Poor you, poor you
No one understands you
Poor you, poor you"
And every word that everyone would say
Got mumbled up in his head
Like mumble-jumble and everywhere he went
It seemed like everyone was saying to him,
"Blah blah blah"
But late at night, he had a mistress
In his dreams, in his sleep
And she would say "poor you, poor you"
No one understands you
Poor you"
This story, though, not well told
Is not that old
It's not that funny, it's not that great
But I know it to be true
Because late at night, I have an angel
In my dreams, in my sleep
And as she runs her fingers through my hair
As I lay on her lap
And she says, "poor you, poor you
No one understands you, poor you
Poor you"

"Poor You" by Daniel Johnston, 1983