It's a savage drag, man, to try and do all this without you
It's a brutal feeling to admit to myself that I doubt you
I don't wanna be glum, but we're wrecks, and it's pressed as a tattoo
It's a savage drag, man: super patronizing to continue
Aaaaaah
We could be magenta, body painted and spread like a race car
We could play defender of the freak force and snipe at the wild stars
We could make, oh, I don't know, a million dollars selling babies to malcontents and mummies
It's a savage drag, man, to be nothing and try to remember
Aaaaaah
Time sticks it to me in real time:
Grow old gracefully and then die
And I don't wanna know what the son will sow
But it's okay; I'll let it go