I’ve been paying close attention to the things you say:
Your attitude is getting darker every day.
If you see a light, you just complain,
“At the end of the tunnel must be an oncoming train.”
According to you, the world is a pit,
And most folks don’t know the half of it:
The poor think they’re unlucky, the rich think they’re set,
The middle class don’t understand how bad it’s going to get.
You see the future as a ton of bricks
Bound to fall from somebody’s bag of tricks.
Choosing looks like losing when your hands are tied,
’Cause the grass is always browner on the other side.
Every day you’re selling your philosophy.
It sounds like an excuse to give up to me.
“Life is born in heartache!” — well, we all know that.
I could get more useful insight talking to my cat.
The real world isn’t perfect, and compromise
Is built into the lessons that the wise advise.
If nothing meets your standards, and you can’t commit,
Treason’s not the reason that you don’t do shit.
You see the future as a ton of bricks
Bound to fall from somebody’s bag of tricks.
Choosing looks like losing when your hands are tied,
’Cause the grass is always browner on the other side.
Chicken Little got nothing on you.
Revelation is the only book you think is true.
Your survival package for the Apocalypse
Is in the fanny pack strapped around your hips.
Don’t feed me any more of your jive.
You talk like it’s a curse just to be alive.
You think you’ve got it all figured out so well?
Take your sadness and your madness and go... up the road a spell...
You see the future as a ton of bricks
Bound to fall from somebody’s bag of tricks.
Choosing looks like losing when your hands are tied,
’Cause the grass is always browner on the other side.