Me I'm Depressed

It seems like everyone's always okay
(or begging on the corner, half-dead)
you know:
I'm a hustler
rolling around in a porsche
or happy old rock'n roll tunes:
"so happy together"
"day-dream believer"
"the beat goes on"
"the walk of life"
"I wanna rock'n roll all night, and party every day"
"I'm a rocket-man"

Well, I don't have one,
but it would take more than a porsche to cheer me up
(you know, Porsche started making those cars
right after the rocket bombs that fell on London) ;
just occasionally, I wish they'd
fallen on Klamath Falls, Oregon
and taken me out while strolling out of the coffeehouse
completely oblivious

See, I'm not the suicidal type
it'll never happen;
my sadness and fear
gives way to cynicism and ferocity

Yes, the world's fine:
we're all going to make it,
the globe's certainly not over-heating
or veering away from or toward the third
and final world war;
our democracies are certainly not scams,
of course we're better and ahead of The Africans

Come on: "Don't be afraid of the world we've made
on a sunny afternoon:
if at first you don't succeed, try and try again."

I look at all the happy people
riding around in their Hondas or Porsches,
making or losing money,
or putting a good face on
while the cops haul them off to some dungeon:
where do they all come from?

I also lose interest in that:
I'm fine no crisis
just got out of the jacuzzi slowly drinking a beer
but me, I'm depressed
you see