I know what's gonna happen l'll try to go to bed With fear of failure flapping Like a fruit bat in my head l'll sleep for half an hour The clock will ring at six I'll wake up in the shower with a stomach full of bricks So I won't have any breakfast Maybe just a little tea Like when you have to go And get a colonoscopy Which incidentally isn't half As disconcerting or upsetting As going for a part you know There is no way that you are getting But anyway l'm heading Downtown for the audition Where everything I'm dreading Will be coming to fruition And here's what's gonna happen I'Il walk in weak with hunger And there's a dozen girls Who look like me but ten years younger TIl go into the bathroom And l'Il try to vocalize And l'Il be singing "minga-minga-minga-minga-ming" But I'll be hearing Sandy sucks She really sucks, she really, really, really blows And she's old, and she's lame And then someone calls my name And here's what happens I'll walk into the room The gross fluorescent lighting is inviting as a tomb And everybody smiles They'll say its good to see ya But all I see is judges And they'll all look like Scalia And then a little banter as they look me up and down And somewhere through the fog of insecurity and hate I'Il try to convince them that I'm charming And I'm clever and I'm fun to have around But I'm starting to unravel In my head I hear the gavel Guilty! They're gonna throw the book at me 'cuz 'm Guilty! Of coming in and wasting all their time Guilty! Of almost every other showbiz crime Not young enough! Not thin enough! Not pretty enough! Not good enough! We hereby sentence you to a lifetime of Waiting tables and debilitating self-loathing Sandy? But wait no someone's asking So can we hear your voice? make a lame attempt at humor: Do I have a choice? I nod at the pianist He's always wearing black He's always in a turtleneck With dandruff on his back No sooner do I get my note And open up my trap Then inevitably some mealy-mouthed assistant director's Thumbs are all over his iPhone And I know he's probably tweeting LOL, This girl is crap She's a fake She's a phony She could never win a Tony I now live in a place I know quite well I've left the world, and I've entered hell I'm this far away from a fainting spell But iust before die finish a song Which I oversell Somebody says thanks And wishes me well The next thing I know I'm at Taco Bell Stuffing my face with meat I'm trying to take it slowly I'm trying to be my best I'm trving to be more holy Less bitter and depressed I'm reading Eckhart Tolle He makes a lot of sense I bought a Buddhist bowl He says he it helps you be less tense It doesn't do a thing for me I sit there on the floor I watch a vivid sequence Of humiliating instances from my past go by And think what kind of masochist Keeps coming back for more When she knows what's gonna happen 'Cuz it never doesn't happen 'Cuz it always, always Sandy? Sandy! Michael? No! I know what's gonna happen Don't tell me that I don't And don't say that l'll rise to The occasion 'cuz I won't And don't say I've got talent And don't say I've got heart And don't say that I'm clever 'Cuz I know I'm pretty smart I'm smart enough to know That I'm too stupid to admit You can't survive a diet That consists of eating shit The trick is knowing when it's time to pack your bags And say "that's it!" You know what's gonna happen I know what's gonna happen Here's what's gonna happen I quit! I quit! I quit!
