Iconic Image of Irony

I can't
Not anymore

Tell the pigeons I'm out of bread
Tell the man on the corner I am out of change
Tell the voices in my head
I can't
Not anymore

I'm standing on the moon
I'm wearing Saturn's ring around my finger

And I can't
Not anymore
Be your universe

Tell the pigeons I'm out of bread
Tell the disciples I have no wisdom to disperse

It's friday o'clock a half past noon
My lunar cycle is raging
And time is standing still
And the silence is exhilirating

But I can't
Not anymore

Tell Cupid he can have his arrow back
Tell Mother Nature I am off to bed
Tell Father Time I've been a good son
Tell the voices in my head

I can't
Not anymore

I'm surrendering to the French
I'm addicted to the irony

And I won't
Not anymore
Be your whipping boy

Tell the pigeons I am out of bread
Tell the gods I have spent their joy

And I can't
Not anymore
Be

the iconic image
of irony