I'm an egomaniac
Here's my hundred ninety nine
If I reflect enough of their echoes
Someone will say, "Your shit's sublime"
My self-worth is inflated
My karmas are serene
Twenty-three is easy
When they're in love with seventeen

The echoes travel
Plenty far from x to y
An erudite pretender
Comes from a Sentimental Guy
My philosophy is tainted
By the paved low roads I found
I hide in the crowd
when there's no one else around

Twenty-three is easy
When I've forgotten what it means
To feel like a hanger-on
To myself in my teens
I'm only this agreeable
So long as we're short on time
The echo's getting louder
Here's a hundred ninety nine

My microphone's turned on
And your speakers are turned up
Every time I visit
It's a deafening feedback loop