I wish I had a reason for feeling how I feel I wish there was a purpose or a meaning or something I wish that when I did feel great, it lasted more than just a day And I didn't go straight back to feeling miserable And the part of brain that functions wrong, well I can't articulate it into a song But the day that it happens, I will retire from music And your mind is like a town with next to no funding No public education, garbage dumps, or policemen So your trash piles up all the way to the treetops And for the life of you, you just can't get that smell out of your mouth So you try and you try, you think you might die You swim through the wasteland, vomiting and crying Just to make it, just to make it, just to make it to the welfare department (Yeah, sure does hurt) (That's cool, I guess you could join up with us if you want) (Yeah, we're gonna go to the graveyard to write poems about death and how pointless life is)