LYRIC

I can see my welcome is wearing thin
There’s much conjecture about the state we’re in
I’m not feeling good as gold, I’m feeling cheap as tin
I think it’s time for my Ritalin*

You say I don’t care about
You and all the things you can’t live without
You say it’s only temporary
We’re going to end up in purgatory

Couch… Fatboy**…Arms akimbo
Is… Fatboy… We’re in limbo
Satan… Fatboy… Arms akimbo
Couch is Satan… We’re in limbo

It’s so impersonal on the phone
We are one but we are alone
You say it’s only temporary
We’re going to end up in purgatory

You say I don’t care about
You and all the things you can’t live without
I’m not feeling good as gold, I’m feeling cheap as tin
I think it’s time for my Ritalin

Procrastination is second nature
And prone to exotic nomenclature
I think the more we put it off the more we
Are likely to end up in purgatory

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