He is the critic who never quite made it
His big dream slowly descended
And now he is paying back on life that let him down

And the stage from where he should triumph
Is still sucking him in like a magnet
But the shows all remind him of he is lost dream

Chorus: He is the critic who used every single word
As a fence against the world

Hanging out backstage, big shot, foxtrot
Feeling like being in the hot spot
Untill he is told to take a hike

But out in the bar he is gaining
Selfesteem through the bottles
Could have killed her off – if it wasn’t for his small gun

Chorus

C-stk: Nursing his notebook
From a corner of the bed
Thank God the words are still his friends
But in nightmare the editor tells him
Its time to leave the office
“Oh no, you can’t do that!”

Chorus x 4