you’ve got the self-styled aesthetenand the armchair athletenand the prosecutor telling gruesome talesnbut you can nurse that old gripenuntil the sour grapes turn ripenbut the cross you’re on is short a couple nailsnnand you told your friends/it wouldn’t be paradisenand you scold your friends/for wanting a bigger slicenyou’d better take your own, take your own advicennyou’ve got the air duct creakingnand the feedback shriekingn’til it makes you want to holler, “oh shit, coach!”nbut when the units won’t shiftnuntil you use a forkliftnyou might as well rethink your whole approachnnand I know that once/they were one you like white on ricenyou can blow that once/but it’s not gonna happen twicenyou’d better take your own, take your own advicennHollywood to Hartfordnflooding out to FargonAmerica by dartboardnas bitter high-school lonersnturn into attorneys, professors and home-ownersnnbut you tell yourself/it’s better to be precisenyou could sell yourself/if you lower the asking pricenyou’d better take your own, take your own advice