Good Times

[Verse 1] I may be dressed as a doctor, dear But I'm not, I'm just acting up Got high hopes A passing thought I may act like a bombardier But don't be fooled, cause my aim is off No need for alarm I'll catch you next time [Verse 2] I'd like to raise the Titanic here Take a walk down its molding streets And feel right at home Cause the dead don't talk It'd be so nice, if you weren't here Empty air, where you used to stand Like an empty plate That gets bussed away