So, This Is It

I'm not a belle at the ball. I'm more like Cinderella –
out of place, on borrowed time.
I'm third generation working-class
from the wrong side of the serving line.
I've never been here before except through the back door.
I'm not too proud to beg the question.
So, this is it? Now the curtain is thrown back.
So what? So, this is it?
(Picture ID and City Ledger Number, please).
Elbows are rubbed with the white gloves
where the silver spoons measure the true blue bloods.
Jet-set black tie affairs reveal the grass ain't greener
any greener than over there.
I've never been here before except through the back door.
I'm not too proud to beg the question.
So, this is it? Now the curtain is thrown back.
So what? So, this is it?
(Picture ID and City Ledger Number, please).
You just keep keeping up with the Joneses.
"And he stepped on the ball."



Credits
Writer(s): John Albert Dow Iii
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link