There
is something about yourself
that you don't know.
Something that you are denying
even exists.
Until it's too late to do anything about it.
It's the only reason you get up in the morning.
Only reason you suffer the shitty boss.
The blood,
the sweat and the tears.
This is because you want people to know how good,
attractive,
generous,
funny, wild and clever you really are.
Please,
think I'm special.
The show and the dictum.
The approval chunkies.
The line-up with the slap on the back.
And the gold watch.
They've had to * him raw.
Look at the clever boy with the badge.
Pushing his trophy.
Shine on you, crazy car moon.
Shine on you, crazy car moon.
Slap on the back.
Slap the show.
It was just monkeys wrapped in suits,
begging for the approval of others.
If we knew this,
we wouldn't do this.
Someone is hiding it from us.
And
if you had a second chance,
you would.
or is it...
you want people to know how good,
attractive,
generous,
funny, wild and clever you really
are.
But please,
think I'm special.
The show on a dick drum.
The approval junkies.
Begging for the approval of others.
Why?
Show it on you, crazy garment.
Show it on you, crazy garment.
Show it on you, crazy garment.
Show it on you, crazy garment.