Having time for nothing
Talking to the coffin
Chose a dirty job to do but better than my own
Better than what I could do
Pulling out my hair
Better than to moan about your empty pockets, no one cares
Oh you swimming wide eyed trout
Couldn't get the hook out
Caught you fresh and sinless
How could you be so senseless
Oh you red eyed voiceless drop out
Use your legs, you fish, and walk out
Summer by the dock
Wet foot, wet sock walk
Join the fire and four chord songs
Showing off expensive bongs
Lonely Mr. Sweetheart
Walking off the head rush
Getting used to the spiders on the tent walls
And their glowing yellow eyeballs