Just another Sunday
Paddle-boat ride on a man-made lake
With another lady stranger
If I remain lost and die on a cross
At least I wasn't born in a manger
I can sense somewhere right
Now I'm being prayed for
Seems like I always arrive
On the same shore
From where my sails set
Maybe with one less lady
Than my vessel left with
Is that a threat?
Oh, I've stayed scarce
This past year, yes
But be assured in unrest
I'm unavoidable like death
This Christmas, is this twisted?
Why be upset?
I never said I didn't have syphilis
Miss Listless hard like the
Bricks I pound my fists with
I mean, she's hard like the bricks
That I pound with my fists
This is the fall of Mr. Fifths
Forged for the hordes
And the ladies and lords
Set with fat chords
In modern English
I know, I know
There's nothing more appealing
Than the sound of high heels
Down the marble tile hallways
Of your districts one alloted
City-funded Steiner school
Bilingual or Montessori
Followed by a single
High-pitched scream
Followed by breaking glass
But could your anger be mapped
Into an interpretive dance
To a trip-hop track? Could it be
Bowed out on strings
Or strung into a pattern for a God's eye to bring
To your alma-mater's holiday
Fundraiser boutique thing?
♪
Look at that
Whoa

OK, I'm sorry
I'm just being crazy
I'm sorry
I'm just being crazy, I know
I'm paying attention to the aircraft
I'm fine

Everything's totally fine
Feel lot better now