Not Quite As Retarded

I’ve been told I’m a retard,
Rather backward, if you will,
The tears that drip from these dwarven eyes,
Continually refill

Now I finally decide,
To fill my mind,
I’m going to libraries & the librarian’s kind

Now the books I own,
Are just text alone,
There are pictures, yes, but I’m getting this reading thing sewn

Every day in every way,
I’m not quite as retarded,
Every day in every way,
I’m not quite as retarded,
As the day before
The Inskorans call me a ‘fucking dwarf’
And mock my lack of brain,
It’s not my fault, I’m slightly slow,
They make me cry again

Yeah, I’m crying again,
It’s the one thing I’m good at,
Yeah, I’m crying again,
Dwarf juice comes from that

Now I finally decide,
To fill my mind,
I’m learning from embossed books for the blind

I’m feeling my way,
So that when people say,
“You’re a retarded dwarf”, I can quote from ‘De Profundis’

Every day in every way,
I’m not quite as retarded,
Every day in every way,
I’m not quite as retarded,
As the day before

I was a dwarf who stood in symbolic relations to the art and culture of my age.
I had realised this for myself at the very dawn of my dwarfhood, and had forced my age to realise it afterwards.
Few dwarfs hold such postion in their own lifetime, and have it so acknowledged.
It is usually discerned, if discerned at all, by the historian, or the critic, long after both the dwarf and his age have passed away.

Oooooh, I’m just fooling myself,
Oooooh, I’m just a brainless elf

Now I finally decide,
To change my mind,
I’ve sold all these books and bought a kite

I just want cartoons,
And bendy balloons,
My brains are too soft to keep information inside

Every day in every way,
I’m getting more retarded,
Every day in every way,
I’m getting more retarded,
Than the day before