You keep getting bored,
Cuz out on the street your quicksilver moment's gone bad,
So you're left clutching a camera, a picture of daniel,
And somebody's stamp on your hand.
The company you keep keeps cleaning out your desk.
The company you keep keeps closing down.
But if you get tired of the liars and the latchkey kids,
You can rest assured that you got further than they ever did.
So please don't be insulted
By the backhand cult of pharmacy:
They don't know what they're saying,
They just pick their words randomly.
You're constantly upended
By the misfit brats and their paper mache.
They leave you grasping for handles,
The art school commandos and the songs that they play.
The company you keep
Keeps locking all the windows every night;
The company you keep keeps bolting all the doors.
But if you're feeling inspired
By the wired girls with ice in their veins,
When they chanted your name.
Just please don't be offended
By their awkward pauses and master plans;
If you need to be centered,
They're the only ones who'll understand.
If you're still looking in the phone book to learn things,
You've got a long way to go.
So if you wanna retire all the liars and the backseat kids,
You can step on the fire that's burning
In earnest from the secrets they hid.
Just please don't be disgusted
By the big band myths of pharmacy;
They're just quicksilver moments
And words chosen randomly.
I guess in that way, they're an awful lot like me.