Up at three o'clock And taking time out to think things through All seven years I try explaining while never understanding We're both functionally compatible Conveniently affable Like water over waste on display Now it's five o'clock An open bottle has drained me through In seven years The condescension has escalated to a point that's Practically unbearable and hard to understand We've become water over waste I'd hardly hesitate To be sitting in a booth inside your head Some plans are all but written off Some thoughts are all but faded out So sure this is a phase I won't remember anymore No standing tall by sitting down No talking without making sound And I'm making an appearance now to settle up the score And I'll be standing here til someone opens the door