Tacoma God

You wonder how I am And I've been fine Since the day you left I've kinda felt peace But I'm not a god I'm not a god I'm not a god I think I am, but not your kind You were a god on that Tacoma A god who talks like child I know you want to make me happy Just give me five years to sort this out And your complex of a god, with your women on the side A god back in Florida, in the swamp I know you want to reach that place Where you rich friends are now (I'm tired)