It's been days
    twice counting the calendar
that I've been in here,
Waiting for a knock on the door to get me out of this dark room.
And hearing once too often,
    "Sir, you are needed."
I know I have a job
having a big slab of an S burned on my chest,
And being faster than a locomotive goes with the job.
Someone sent me here saying,
"This Hell's gotta have a little piece of Heaven, save 'em all the time."
At first I was thankful for being able to fly
     and breaking bad guys' faces was all too cool,
And I was gonna get through this Hell with all the strength that I have.

But I gotta ask, "When did helping old ladies and stopping the world from blowing up...
     not matter as much?"
And when did I turn into such a cliche, making "Whenever, Wherever, I'll be there" my theme?
     Can't a guy get a little rest?
Some people threw me compliments, "Oh thank you, you're so strong!"
Some labeled me a demigod for beating the devil's ass.
But when did this job suddenly get boring?
And worst yet, when did every hour kill me
     inch by inch?

The big S on my chest is torn,
I've stood up millions of times with two broken knees,
Trying to spread my ripped and bleedings wings and fly,
All the while lifting crying bodies out of the dark
with beat up and bruised arms.

I know I'm a superhero,
Not wanting anymore than a thank you or a respectful, "Good job."
I was born with all the ears to hear, all the eyes to see, and a heart to care
But I never thought of the day when my ears would be bleeding,
     bleeding
from an eternity's worth of trying to hear for drowning people being sucked up by the waves ,
From trying to shed tears along with those in pain to show that at least  someone cared,
And for having myself abused cause some might think,
"Let's all act like cold, heartless fools cause there's always someone out there that cares."

I'm sure that someone gets the picture,
that this Superhero's hanging up his cape.
And don't think it hasn't been fun, saving and all, and getting my share of rewards,
"Here's a bandaid for your broken leg and your crushed neck. We know you'll heal someday."
     Thanks for the bandaid.
I've spilled too much of my blood and my dead throat's been gulping too much of another day's worth of living
     to serve and save.
I know that I'm your Superhero, your angel with the mean sword.
But I've spent myself trying to keep from drowning,
All the while lifting a hundred people from the cold, dark sea.
     I'm tired of being Atlas, holding everyone's weight.

To the hundreds that I've saved,
You can wishfully think of this as my temporary leave of absence
     cause that's all I want you to think.

I want you to be able to say one day, "If I fall off this ledge, that Superhero's either gonna catch me
     or I'm gonna be able to fly on my own."
And maybe one day, if wishes are ever granted to the good people,
My Superhero's name might just be forgotten,
And I might just be one of those damsels in distress,
Well in this case, the guy who's stuck in the burning building
     and the one that doesn't know how to fly.