Some kid in a thrift-store jacket stopped me in the pharmacy aisle Said, “Hey, aren’t you the dad from that nineties show? Man, I haven’t seen that in a while.” He couldn’t quite pull my actual name out of the wreckage of his head Just stood there holding generic ibuprofen, looking like he thought I was dead Which—fair enough! The lighting in aisle four is a war crime on the skin And the residuals don’t cover what they used to, but hey, let’s take it on the chin! Because it’s wild how fast the town gets a conscience when your syndication numbers dip Everyone’s a Pulitzer-winning ethicist the second that you lose your grip I gave them nine prime-time seasons of wholesome, digestible, family-friendly pain Now I’m the cautionary headline they read while they’re waiting for the train! I got the syndicated rerun playing to an empty living room at three A.M. And when the tape hits the punchline, the dead people laugh right on cue again! Hey, if I’m gonna be the villain of the week, at least put my name above the title! (The bigger they are!) The harder they fall! Put my face through the drywall, hang it up in the hall! Yeah, they used to love me! (They used to love me!) Every Friday at eight, I was the king of the cul-de-sac! They used to love me! (They used to love me!) And you don’t get that kind of immunity back! See, the trick to a really great apology is the third draft, right before you hit send Where you swap out “I panicked and ruined your Tuesday” for “I’m just a complicated friend” I spent forty-five minutes engineering the punctuation so it looks like I’m taking the blame So you have to feel like an asshole if you’re still angry when I say I’m ashamed! You don’t answer anyway. Nobody answers anymore. I used to walk into a kitchen and people were actually glad I came through the door Not calculating the exit route, not hiding the car keys under the mail Not using that careful, exhausted voice like they’re talking a hostage down from a rail I know why I do it! I’ve paid four different doctors to tell me the exact clinical root of my rot! Wait—if I know why I’m broken, doesn’t that count for a lot? Why doesn’t it count for a lot? I got the twenty-minute mark where the strings swell up to tell you everything is fine And I’m mouthing all the dialogue to the glass on the table, waiting for my line! (The bigger they are!) The harder they fall! Look at the size of the crater, man, I towered over you all! Yeah, they used to love me! (They used to love me!) You stayed on the couch till the sun came up in the hills! They used to love me! (They used to love me!) You forgave me in advance just to see how it feels! “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” God, that’s such a flattering lie. Like I was some monument coming down in the square And you just happened to be standing nearby. I wasn’t big. I was just loud in a small room with someone who trusted me. And when I came down, I didn’t hit the pavement. I landed on you. And the worst part isn’t that you finally walked out. It’s that I’m sitting here trying to find a way to make this verse about how bad I feel about it So you’ll come back and tell me I’m still a good person. (The bigger they are!) The harder they fall! There’s nobody watching the monitor, nobody’s taking the call! Yeah, they used to love me! (They used to love me!) Or maybe they just didn’t know me that well! They used to love me! (They used to love me!) Or maybe I made the whole thing up so I wouldn’t have to live in this hell! Yeah, you used to love me! (They used to love me!) Before you found out what it costs to stay in the room! Anyway, the episode’s over. The credits are rolling in the corner of the screen, squished down to make room for a local car commercial. I should probably get up and turn the television off. I’m just gonna sit here a little longer.
