If there's a swan and a duck in the pondnAnd everybody's looking at the swannIn her shiny, white-feather coatnIt'll make the duck so bitternnIf the swan can teach you soccer tricksnOr sit and talk, if it calls for itnAnd the duck stands tall on condescending groundnIf her tactic fails, she'll fall so far downnShe should have sat and quacked with usnBecause it made the duck so bitternnIf the duck can't even laugh nWithout being sarcasticnWhat's the chance she'll tell us something we'll enjoynAnd the swan could open earsnWith what she has to saynHer quacking choir chorusnIf the duck listens with envynIt'll make the duck so bitternnIf the duck sucks the happinessnFrom anybody in her pathnShe should be glad enough by nownBut she's still toneless as her laughnAnd the swan instead just radiatesnIn her shiny, white, feather coatnI think I'd rather be hanging out with the swan right nownBut it would make the duck so bitternnAnd that'll make the swan seem so much betternEven if she's not betternnBut if the swan isn't touchy-feelynIf she can hardly leave her pondnShe's not so perfect after allnThen again I guess nobody isnBut she's as damn well close as anyone gotnOr as anyone will be, well I hope notnI hope there more like her aroundn'Cause this pond's filling up with ducksnThat I can't standnThey're all so bitternAnd I'm betting the swan will turn out bittern'Cause almost everyone I know so far has turned out bitternI'm also betting soon I'll turn out bitter