Dammit I hate to be the type That seeks to be amused Dammit I hate to be the type Dammit I hate to be the type That's in it real quick before I'm done Dammit I hate to be the type Cause oh When the world stays spinning I feel tied And oh Where's exotic livin' like in Mumbai? And oh When the world stays spinning I feel tied And oh There's a high beam in a low side How would I go? I don't even know If I found myself a limerence of my own Down the yellow road Rushed in syllables If I found myself a limerence Of my own Dammit I hate to be the type That sticks to black like a parasite Dammit I hate to be the type Still sitting by the fire Waiting just a bit in the month of June Sitting by the fire