Christmas 2001
What if, hypothetically, there were an NBA player who was offered a chance to carry the Olympic torch, and what if this hypothetical NBA player said that he might, as long as it were some place that lots of people could see him and not out in the desert somewhere? I wonder if such a (hypothetical) NBA player might release a Christmas album to get a little PR?
It's beginning to sound a lot like whining
Everywhere he goes.
"I coulda' had a ring by now
My teammates don't know how
To play the game and in the score it shows."
It's beginning to sound a lot like whining,
Soon the games will start.
But Karl won't be carrying the flame
To the opening of the games
And it breaks my heart . . . . not!
Oh little mind of Karl Malone,
How much we hear you moan.
Above the cheers in the DC
We hear your sobbing tone.
When the torch is lit in
The opening ceremony
You'll be right there with all the throngs
Watching it on the TV.
Oh come, aren't you hateful,
Petty and so childish.
Oh come, now, oh Ka-arl do you think that we care?
Come to your senses,
Come back from your fantasy.
No one here adores you,
Oh no one here adores you,
Oh no one here ado-ores you,
You're the only one.
Agents we have heard to cry,
"Karl will not deign bear the flame."
And the mountain states reply,
"Oh darn, isn't that a shame?"
Glo-o-ooo Oh-o-o-o-o ry me.
In excessus ego.
Glo-o-ooo Oh-o-o-o-o ry me.
In excessus ego.
Away in the desert no cameras in chase,
They offered the mailman a chance to save face.
The star in his ego looked down with disdain.
"I won't carry the torch, if I can't hog the fame."
