I wrote this as a “protest” song, of sorts, several years ago. The gist of it being that some guys are born on third, but believe that they hit a triple. It was around a time when I considered myself to be well-informed and politically savvy. (I know much better now.) It was also around a time when I would routinely shout at public figures as they pranced across my television screen. However, it was long enough ago that I honestly can’t even remember who it’s specifically about. But do you know what? I don’t think that really matters. In fact, I’m almost sure that it doesn’t.
Which is why I think this verbal tirade against some forgotten legislator or industrialist works so well, even today. I could virtually be talking about anyone -anybody at all- that you happen to dislike, and for whatever reason that may be. And I suppose that’s the real beauty of mis-directed anger; It is truly timeless! So just sit back (but don’t you dare relax) and listen to this tune while you steam over Mr. . . Go on, feel the burn! You know you want to.
LYRICS:
We’re in the middle of another war
And we don’t know what we’re fighting for
Under the power of these pimps and whores
The stupid things that they say
You hire writers to create your past
Give the illusion that you’re middle class
But even though you are patrician trash
We think you’re OK
I can see inside your heart
Where it’s black and cold and hard
And the lies are written cross your face
Get out of my way
You’re no Self-Made Man
Self-Made Man
Yeah you pretend to be a fellow serf
Who made his mark upon the business world
You said determination and hard work
Are how you made the grade
But if it wasn’t for your mom and pop
Whose money set you up with your own shop
Cause if you had to work a real man’s job
You wouldn’t last a day
And you think that you’re so smart
You got everything you want
But I see the price you’ve had to pay
Get out of my way
You’re no Self-Made Man… Like I am
[ GUITAR SOLO ]
Self-Made Man… Self-Made Man…
We’re in the middle of another war
And we don’t know what we’re fighting for
Under the power of these pimps and whores
The stupid things that they say
You hire writers to create your past
Give the illusion that you’re middle class
But even though you are patrician trash
We think you’re OK
I can see inside your heart
Where it’s black and cold and hard
And I finally learned the truth today
Get out of my way
You’re no Self-Made Man
Self-Made Man… Self-Made Man… Self-Made Man