I always knew this world had a terminal illness,
the plot has thickened, the plot has thickened,
you're idolizing, you're idolizing a fool,
a better seller, a better seller, for what?
To sing of razors, having never been cut.
while they (I) glorify sorrow and loneliness,
the point is missing, the point is missing,
a better message, a better message,
we need, a better seller, a better seller for what?
we need a leader and not a theatrical drunk.
oh what a perfect place to be to be to be to be!
I can survive my self(ish) tendency to fold the hand
they dealt is useless.
this harbor job, with hours long,
we move along and on and on,
we're here to go, so now I'm gone, we move along
and on and on… now my environment is a product of me