But then you get that feeling, like a train-track killing
Like an old-time villain in a silent movie
Crying like a kid, squealing like a sex tape
Shrieking like a Beatle fan and kicking like a sensei
Sitting with your pockets full of fists and you're staring at your wrists
And your shoulders, and they're aching so bad
Now they're cutting care, now they're talking pay cut
No one better dare ask you how your day was
Please don't make me act it out, it's hard enough to talk about it
I'll just rent my DVDs and watch my internet TV
I'll bide my time and pay my rent till something knocks me to my senses
When I've had enough of dying in the day shift
I'll pack myself a pair of socks and get inside a spaceship