I dreamt of a suit, a suit so fine I dressed my words in,
Sewn and tailor-made with song in mind made of melody,
Stitched by threads of notes with perfect pitch, perfectly composed,
Sound in tune and key, a code of rhythm, and harmony.
But when I awoke my coat was worn and my words were plain,
Each song that I sang all the notes were wrong and poorly played,
Both my sleeves had holes, my knees were patched, my shoes needed soles,
No clever disguise no way to hide my offensive tone.
But I, I wish for you more than I can give, than I can do,
Yeah, you, you deserve the best an anthem not my hand-me-down tune,
Yeah, you, you deserve the best an anthem not my hand-me-down tune.