The Work at Hand
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I was paying attention
But maybe not at the right time
You're repeating verbatim
The final ultimatum
And all I'm thinking is how to make it rhyme.
I'm doing what I'm meant to do
Exploring inner space
Amazing I can see right through
The disappointment on your face.
I decree: Take the boots to me
And I demand to be strangled by the work at hand.
I'll be gone with my boots still on
'Cause I can't stand to ever leave the work at hand.
I was coming apart
At the scissors of another sleepless night.
I was looking at your hair with a thousand-yard stare
'Cause I couldn't bear to look you in the eyes.
I was born under a neon sign
And I don't give a fuck.
Tell me what I'm signifying
When I'm run down by a laurndry truck.
I decree: Take the boots to me
And I demand to be strangled by the work at hand.
I'll be gone with my boots still on
'Cause I can't stand to ever leave the work at hand.
Work. Work. I do the work.
Work. Work. I do the work.
Work. Work. I do the work.
I decree: Take the boots to me
And I demand to be strangled by the work at hand.
I'll be gone with my boots still on
'Cause I can't stand to ever leave the work at hand.
I recall not that much at all
But I regret the little things I can't forget
I'll be gone (I'm doing what I'm meant to do)
With my boots still on (Destroying people's lives)
'Cause I can't stand (Careful or I'll screw you too)
To ever leave the work at hand.