Every little thing that you are always bursting like a tumor in the car telegraphing Certain sentiments like 'how did it get so far?' finding everyone but you. this is How we wallow When we're wild in our sorrow, when tomorrow is a punchline (pinch me) i am Shaking to d**h You have me so make me your utility, your pathology. Hold upright. Bite down You have to learn this is emotional arbitrage--bring it to me. Only the forces of The markets are free! Calling out pa**ing flights, you're pa**ing out from one little trial. There will be no Right angles In a house that's losing skin: win-win! (so thin). Now go and burn the Books before they see us out here This is how we wallow when we're wild in our sorrow and tomorrow is a tumor in The car Only the forces of the markets are free