| You’re just a bug on a rug in a building
|
| You broke like an egg in the hands of society
|
| Now you’re a dog on a lawn with anxiety
|
| Licking your paws that are covered in memories
|
| Now you’re a dog on the lawn with anxiety
|
| Memories don’t go bad as long as you pour sugar over them
|
| 'Cause sugar don’t rot in hell like truth does
|
| But I’d rather rot like truth do than living in a telephone booth
|
| With all the wrong numbers
|
| You’re just a bug
|
| Counting up to ten to get it out of your system
|
| It’s a form of aggression that grew from frustration
|
| All rotten fruits are ripe for vacation
|
| You’re just a bug on a rug in a building
|
| You broke like an egg in the hands of society
|
| The paintings you paint should show your soul
|
| But even the galerist in Idaho knows you’re a hoe
|
| 'Cause you look like a snail that’s been operated on
|
| Now look at the moon and remember the light
|
| When kisses felt warm and endless that night
|
| Could it have stayed that way forever
|
| Or did it end when tender feelings and love settled in
|
| 'Cause now you’re a dog on a lawn with anxiety
|
| Staring at the sky above you
|
| Reading the letters written in stars
|
| No dogs allowed here, you better stay where you are
|
| You’re just a bug on a rug in a building
|
| You broke like an egg in the hands of society
|
| Now you’re a dog on a lawn with anxiety
|
| Licking your paws covered in memories
|
| I lost a button of my shirt
|
| While running through the station to catch the last train
|
| When it came to my mind that there’s a bug sitting on my thumb
|
| And it’s midnight, and we haven’t spoken for a while
|
| You’re just a bug on a rug in a building
|
| You broke like an egg in the hands of society
|
| Now you’re a dog on a lawn with anxiety
|
| Licking your paws covered in memories |