Down to the station, standing ovation
I miss my train which fills me with elation
No desire to be where I've got to be
It's just another half-hour I can spend with me
Know I should be enthusiastic 'bout a life filled with plastic
It's better in the end, it guarantees you friends
This is what they say from here to Bombay
A universal truth, just look to the proof
Take this short break to contemplate how we relate
Standing at the bar with a fistful of silver
Make eye contact and get the cold shoulder
Standing at the bar with a handful of hundreds
Leave that evening with plenty of new numbers
But we don't play that way, take it day by day
Look to Mahatma, Nelson and Che
This is our contribution to social revolution
I know it's not much, this hypocritical slush
Everywhere I go I'm confounded by the ebb and flow of crowds of people
Paranoia strains on the reins to my brain
As I'm surrounded by people
Watching me, judging me, can they see my frailty
Got to get away from people
I'm about to lose control
What should I write next? I'm easy perplexed
By the need for coherence, there's too much interference
Meaningfull is purposless, it's quite unlikely to impress
Upon the fluid intellects of those who come here to destress
But I'm afraid I digress, put it in the blender
Which button should we press?
First choice is the one marked vex
What will be the outcome, I can only guess
Why should we sit, roll over and die?
Chase the stick thrown by some invisible guy
Who's reputed to be living in grace up high
If we don't suck him off then he'll send us to fry
My sense of humour is black like a puma
Poised to pounce with those verbs and nouns
Rythmically allied to the sounds we provide
Skins, strings and lips all on the same trip
Everywhere I go I'm confounded by the ebb and flow of crowds of people
Paranoia strains on the reins to my brain
As I'm surrounded by people
Watching me, judging me, can they see my frailty
Got to get away from people
I'm about to lose control
The ball's now rolling as I'm trolling for the metaphor
Suppose its fitting that the fittest survive my spitting jaw
2AM, desk-lamp wards off the dark
Tiny mind running riot like a twisted theme park
I embark on my quest to get this nonsense of my chest
The slope is pretty sheer, your powers are useless here
Yell out for Yoda and his friendly green shoulder
But it's no use, 'cause he's in Noordhoek doing yoga
Everywhere I go I'm confounded by the ebb and flow of crowds of people
Paranoia strains on the reins to my brain
As I'm surrounded by people
Watching me, judging me, can they see my frailty
Got to get away from people
I'm about to lose control