Whip out a can of Satan
Karate chop the prevailing garbage pailing
Labeling every activity under the sun
Cos there's batteries in the stars above
But they're running out of juice quick
So I'm writing myself a letter
Twenty years
When my stomach will be full of beautiful purple meat
And my nostrils will be expanding
My eyeballs will be cramming
All the details of sales
Collectable stamps
Bringing the headlines into focus
Cos it all has some deeper meaninglessness
Wading through the brown oxygen
And the blue varicose veins
Where is the last acceptable canceled check
Lowering down into catacombs of crap
Puzzling through bird bones cactuses
Amplifying the dishwashers
Distorting full overdrive
Life with expectations
Expecting you to laminate your face
Fork-lifting you into the future
Just take it back to the future
Cos the future is a sequel to the past
But the past is a sequel that never got made
Just got shoved into limbo
And I'm working my way back to you babe
Cashing a check for fifty cents
Hey kid don't spend it all on yourself
Just spit on yourself
But don't excite yourself
Just sing about yourself
Sing about boredom
Sing about boring excitement
The kind that you find peeling off the ceiling
Closing and posing for a picture of pus
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APPEARS ON:
KAOS: 1994-01-26
Unreleased Material
DATE RECORDED:
January 26th 1994
LENGTH:
3:51
WRITTEN BY:
Beck Hansen
STUDIO:
KAOS
PERFORMERS:
Beck Hansen
Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, Harmonica
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