It ain’t easy being mean. In effete morality,
I maintain a masquerade of earnestness and modesty
It ain’t easy being mean. Four in five bastards agree
sincerity falls casualty to common courtesy.
I don’t apply my brake when I see children in the street at play.
I’d wring a helpless kitten’s neck just to watch its color change.

It ain’t easy being mean… a sea of negativity
Rubbing calloused palms to greet each new catastrophe
It ain’t easy being mean… to bite one’s tongue until it bleeds
Or feign interest in the ho-hums and oh-ums others speak.
I toss antacids to the squawking gulls when I picnic at the beach
And when Sunday mass lets out, I throw stones at the elderly

Charlie, you were the honest son
Growing up I was the other one
Always measured against your name
I was a faint gray line in a doorway.

It ain’t easy being mean, acting vulgar and obscene.
Societal pressures impede one’s leisure life to such extremes
It ain’t easy being mean, speaking free and honestly
of my limitless contempt for every single living thing.
I love the squeal of a wheelchair rolling down a flight of stairs.
I sleep with all of my friends’ wives and I brag about my affairs.

Charlie, you were the honest son
Growing up, I was the other one.
If mama, could have lived to see
I think she’d be so proud of me.

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