I'm uptight, super-gutted, out of the frame   I shake my leg on the ground like an epileptic battery man   I'm making my move letting loose like a bell   a little worse for wear but I'm wearing it well   tell me, what's wrong with a little grind and bump   when the stereos erupt with the kick drum punch   once you do it once you'll probably do it again and again   like you did it before but you're more erratic than then   when you've had a rough ride and the night's just begun   let a little bit of this put the past where it's done   don't let it hold you back like you already said   no dead flower's gonna grow till the dirt gets wet      put the elevator music on   put me back where I belong   the ambulance sings along   the fly on the wall doesn't know what's wrong   if I could forget myself   find another lie to tell   if I had a soul to sell   I'd buy some time to talk to my brain cells      Gut bucket and a bottle of pain   its like the school house lights will never turn on again   till the bottom wears off of these high heeled boots   and the bodies all move to some back bone roots   everybody working hard till the yard's all clean   and the dishes washed good in the washing machine   then you brush your teeth and you comb back your hair   and you drive your vehicle like you just didn't care   and you walk into work with the boys and the girls   and you're doing it to death like it's the end of the world   everybody sweatin forgetting what's on their minds   make your hand like a mirror so you can see what's inside   when you're down and out pounded and there's nothing that's real   its like a plastic heart too amputated to feel   I got a soda can bible song   a paranoid jumbotron   the lord took the weekend off   the fly on the wall doesn't know what's wrong   if I could forget myself   find another lie to tell   from the bottom of an oil well   cellphone's ringing to talk to my brain cell