he takes medicine from the ill
and he can't spell very well
but he knows how to read
and he has never killed anybody personally
he exaggerates and whines
but hey i'm no prize
i'm no genius
i tend to believe his lies
he's good enough for me
why would i reach for the sky
when the sky is so far away
the shelf's the limit
and the plates don't complain when they break
now i'm set up on this hill
once in a while he'll pay a bill
and on some sundays i pray
i really can't complain
it's good enough for me
he's not a psychopath
he's just a little mad
the standard is set
i'll take what i can get