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