It's a monday morning, cold winter's day, nothing outside is real.
Step in the car, turn the key, put on some heat, begin to feel.
Then i blink my eyes to make sure i'm me and think about catching a buzz
Box my ears, clean my nose, got to get in gear because
I've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head.
And i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led.
I'm rolling down the highway at a safe and sane sixty per
Seems so easy, seems so right to pull over and jump the curb.
The steering wheel begins to shift a little to my right.
My palms become sweaty and i jerk in a flash of light.
I slam on the breaks and screech to a halt.
Pedestrians are swerving, i laugh cause it's my fault.
Calm as can be i pull back into traffic,
Speeding towards my hell cause i like my violence graphic.
The trees and leaves become superimposed on the sky
My vision is consumed with the greenness going by.
I've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head.
And i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led.
At 7:50 i'm stopped behind a school bus filled with pubes.
Wouldn't it be funny, i think, to sell the little f**ers 'ludes?
But then a thought occurs to me from long ago when i was young
Of the fear i had inside me at the prospect of barbiturate fun.
Oh, how the times they change, i cackle deep inside
As i speed past that yellow sh** puking carbon monoxide.
I've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head.
And i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led.
I've got five minutes to bolt, can't be late to my hell
When that cold hits me again, who i am i cannot tell.
What's reality is a mystery brought on by too much thought.
My concepts collapse my sense of being caught
Between the cold air surrounding me and the emptiness inside.
My head is k**ing me, and i've got no place to hide.