All these depressing evenings   In this depressing bed   With all these pressing issues   Pressing against my head   I cannot concentrate   On one thing at a time   I am starting over   I am too far behind   And if I gave a handshake   To every phony man   There would be no sensation   Left to this bony hand   There is no reputation   That precedes itself   I've heard no declination   Rebuttal, or sale   But we keep selling ourselves   By the neon blue and red   By the keyboards at our hands   And we all just keep dishing it out   Like the bar sluts beg for booze   Do we want to be loved or to be used?   All of these careful people   Shout the same careful sermons   Well I've been lectured carefully   And I've been told I'm human   I don't ever want to   Have to choose a side   But I can't argue with   The way I feel inside   All these depressing feelings   Translate paper from pen   Or keyboard to monitor   In my friends' parents' den   There is no reputation   That precedes itself   I've heard no declination,   Rebuttal, or sale   And I keep telling myself   This has got to even out   There has got to be an out   You all just keep listening   Like you want to see what I can do   Be like my father or follow through   Well I don't know what I can do   I can't keep depending on each of you   I just want to make it to the point   Where I can open up my throat   And sing some world some words I wrote   And pay some bills off from the road   Or I want to swim to where it's black   And feel my lungs start to collapse   Ao I can sit back and relax   Because that would not be so bad.