Down at the drugstore
where they sell medicine
back in the corner
stands a plywood Superman.
He never saves nobody from nothing.
He just leans against the wall
looking sad.
Me, I go climbing on my broken ladder.
Aiming for high places, but I never quite can
lay two hands on the heart of the matter.
Sometimes I feel like that plywood Superman.
Last night at the truck stop,
the cashier at the diesel desk
stopped to talk to me as I paid for my beer.
She's single with 2 kids,
says she loves Las Vegas.
Her dream's one day some rich man
will take her away from here.
When she goes climbing on her broken ladder,
she's searching for some sweet, far-off promised land.
But nobody never breaks free of nothing
wrapped in the arms of a plywood superman.
Now my old daddy, he worked in a factory,
and he used to beat on me
with his mind not his hands.
And though for ten years he's laid
in that grave in Birmingham,
to this day I still hear him saying
what a useless thing I am.
When I go climbing on my broken ladder,
I'm searching for something
but what I don't understand
is how you can climb forever
and still never reach nothing...
trapped in your life like some plywood superman.