Patrick, you see, I'm growing a mustache   And though I know I must ask you   Does it really make me look like a man?      SpongeBob, being a man is just a tough job   I hope you're picked to be the best spongeBobs ever had   Working like a dog at the Krusty Krab      Now wait a minute   I think we hit a wall   I think we hit a psychic wall      Maybe we're just young   And we won't know 'til we're old   Too young to free ourselves   From this lonely fish bowl      Some kind of wall   Some kind of psychic wall   Some kind of wall   Some kind of psychic wall   We can get a burn      Come on, let's find a way to be happy   Not like Plankton, he will never be satisfied   Always complaining about his life      To his computer wife   You think he would've found by now   To be sought as a king   We don't need a burn