I know exactly how boring a grump is
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’Cause I was one myself, I was never happy
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I kept whining, this and that kept going wrong
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And the fault was never mine
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Even when morning had gold in its mouth
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I crawled out of bed on the wrong side
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No way I got up without a foul mood
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But I switched that button off
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You win the hundred meters with a good start
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You win the Tour de France with a bike
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With pretty words you sometimes win a heart
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But you win nothing with grumpiness
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I sat in a bath of pure cynicism
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But I got sick of my whining
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Call it a lack of realism
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I threw my grumpiness out the door
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You win the hundred meters with a good start
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You win the Tour de France with a bike
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With pretty words you sometimes win a heart
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But you win nothing with grumpiness
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I wonder if that's really better
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And if I don't already miss my grumpiness a bit
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You win the hundred meters with a good start
_____
You win the Tour de France with a bike
_____
With pretty words you sometimes win a heart
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But you win nothing with grumpiness
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A loose lace, that's a case apart
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And a blowfly doesn't ride a bike
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With pretty words you sometimes win a heart
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But you won't fly with grumpiness
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But with a blowfly you won't bear a thing
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But you win nothing with grumpiness