| I’m getting too old for this young man’s game
|
| As soon as i settle people change
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| So you come home
|
| And look around your room
|
| At your superman comic collection
|
| «why can’t i fly?», you say
|
| And you think about
|
| Where all of this is going
|
| Why couldn’t you be a hero?
|
| Well, being a hero’s easy in a way
|
| And you’re angry that
|
| You’ve only got two words
|
| That you ever type into google:
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| «free porn» and that’s it, nothing else
|
| And you’re so sick of
|
| Pathetically quitting smoking
|
| 'cause you’re scared it’ll dent your lifespan
|
| Quicksand, that’s all smoking is
|
| You can’t help yourself
|
| And you’re broke too
|
| 'cause you always waste your money
|
| Like on that stupid mandolin
|
| Still sitting in the corner opposite me
|
| So you lay down
|
| On your bed and try to sleep
|
| But you can’t even do that 'cause you’ve got
|
| Some obsessive compulsive
|
| Thing where you pray for your family
|
| And you’re running out of friends to lose
|
| There’s something wrong with you boy
|
| You make them leave, you’re harsh
|
| So give up and give in to being human
|
| Like you gave in to smoking
|
| How you loved that rollie in your mouth at last
|
| I’m getting too old for this young man’s game
|
| As soon as i settle people change
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| And you sit there
|
| With cups of piss in your bedroom
|
| 'cause you figure you’ll be gone soon
|
| So you don’t use the toilet anymore
|
| And your mother
|
| She’s having a nervous breakdown
|
| And the fault is all just yours
|
| You call her names until she sleeps
|
| «goodnight mum you’re a whore»
|
| And you’re dreaming
|
| Of marrying jessica whats-her-face
|
| Well maybe you will and maybe you won’t
|
| But you’ve gotta deal with now, right now
|
| And your brother
|
| Yeah i can tell he hates you
|
| 'cause even on his birthday
|
| You somehow managed to cause a row
|
| You treat
|
| The people that you meet
|
| Just like you treat guitars:
|
| You use them, be nice to them
|
| Then forget them like r. |
| e
|
| And you’re so mad
|
| That when you leave the door
|
| You turn into this other guy
|
| And without him you’re useless as can be
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| I’m getting too old for this young man’s game
|
| As soon as i settle people change
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| Sort yourself out please
|
| (this is god. i’m stuck in a barrel
|
| I’ve been in here for 140 years
|
| Help me.) |