Arnie works the cyclone at the state fair;
Says he's in it for the chicks.
Smokes about two packs of cigarettes each day,
And he drinks just like a fish.
Arnie never talks of family,
And he never found a wife.
He sleeps with the bearded lady,
So does the guy that swallows knives.

Oh, and I... I'm quite a lot like him.
Oh, and I... I'm quite a lot like him.
Oh, and I... I'm quite a lot like him, I swear.

Arnie talks as if someday he'll leave
If the right thing comes along.
A distant dream as a mercenary marine
Is a dream that's long gone.

My eyes... my eyes, they're not like his;
Maybe a little.
God, I wish my eyes were just like his.

Arnie's on the road eight months each year;
Winters down south where it's warm.
He's in a trailer park in Sarasota,
Getting drunk with the clowns.

Writer : BURRY, STEVE
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing