Lyrics

when the tidings of gladhanding translate to a sad face
and all of this stock I'm taking takes me to a mad place
all the billboards that I see
hawk the lies written in me
and it's time that I refused to sell any more ad space

hold me up and hold me down
hold me till I can't be found
and find my moaning grown

I forget how much forgetting it took me to get here,
plagiarizing platitudes to placate this week's pet fear,
inventing fictional good times
to escape to as stress climbs
with my bloodstream filled with brown sauce and nuclear jet beer

pitch the syrup, swing the batter
act as if it doesn't matter
if you mind how much I groan

when the closest we get to kissing is drinking from the same glass
and the things we've proven true make me feel like such a lame ass
I can't find my own head
in this land of the dead
but however much I sneeze, it's time to mow the shame grass

and it should come as no surprise, for
I'm so full of fertilizer,
but my, how much I've grown