Lyrics:

In general the song is about a few writers who were plagued with disillusionment despite or perhaps because of their brilliance.
A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hopin' for a heart-attack
Tonight, the windows are watching, the streets all conspire
And the lamppost can't stop cryin'
If I could fly high above the world
Would I see a bunch of livin' dots spell the word 'stupidity'?
Or would I see hungry lover homicides, lovin' brother suicides
And olly olly oxen frees who pick a side and hide?

(Ah-ah-ah) The world is scratching at my door
(Ah-ah-ah) My morning paper's got the scores
(Ah, ah, ah) The human interest stories
And the obituary, oh yeah

Cockroach naps, rattlin' traps
How many devils can you fit upon a match head?
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

In my alley 'round the corner, there's a wino with feathered shoulders
And a spirit givin' head for crack, and he'll never want it back
There's a little kid and his family eatin' crackers like Thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living

(Ah-ah-ah) The world is scratching at my door
(Ah-ah-ah) My morning paper has the scores
(Ah, ah, ah) The human interest stories
And the obituary, oh yeah

Cradle for a cat, Wolfe looks back
How many angels can you fit upon a match?
I wanna know why Hemingway cracked
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

Life is the crummiest book I ever read
There isn't a hook
Just a lotta cheap shots, pictures to shock
And characters an amateur would never dream up
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction