He wants to die quickly,
But instead of slitting his wrists he buys a pack of camel unfilters
And dreams of buying a Bently
He sits in the front
To maybe get a little attention
From the one who's just questioned his feelings
The one who was altogether to blunt
He sits in the front
Puff, after puff,
Smoke, after smoke,
He counts backwards
The days, the weeks, the years
Its his only hope
Its the day before his
But he doesn't seem to care
All he can do is sit
With that dumbfounded blank stare
Be careful your letting your head get filled
Filled with that rhetoric propaganda
Take a step back and a second look
At the bullshit that they demanda
I have and its a crying shame
That I just cannot quite understand
Take a drive with the music as loud as it gets
Take another drive and then take another hit
Mile, after mile,
Street, after street,
He searches for another way
He frequently collects his thoughts on newspaper
And he never uses the same pen twice
He doesn't want to build a little list of quarks and kinks
But what does it matter he says
He doesn't care what anyone else thinks
But he has a hard time saying no
And a hard time letting go
Its all so familiar but it doesn't quite feel the same
Its all so different but the repetition is driving him insane
Puff, after puff,
Smoke, after smoke,
Pack, after pack,
His life is a joke
He slowly atrophies away
But what does it matter he never wanted to stay
Did you lose yourself yet?
Do you know that you, you pose a threat...