The Vowels, Pt. 2 (WHY?)

I'm not a ladies man, I'm a landmine Filming my own fake death Under an '88 Cavalier I go But-but-but-but nothing but the rear bumper's blown But I's born for this flight United 955 on the fifth of July Back to SFO I-I join the dark side In a thin disguise On consumer grade video at night Faking suicide for applause In the food courts of malls And cursing racing horses on church steps Playing the wall at singles bingo All-time gringo Did anyone hear me cry there? Through a toilet stall divider I swear I care, raw Am I an example of a calculated birth? To a star chart for clowns, I'm not Under robin eggs in a nest, you hit a manila envelope With one last little robin's egg in it A hollow bullet yet spent Subject to dismissal I wish all my pitfalls Could be caught by this call Cheeri-a, cheeri-e, cheeri-i, cheeri-o, cheeri-u