Sneak into the neighbors yard and release the dog they've got chained up
Take the bag their paper's in and fill said bag to the brim with piss

"I would handle things a little differently than you…"

It must be nice to be someone so cool...
Tiny rebellions and massive future plans

Looking back I thought I knew when I grew up what I'd do
I would grow to change the world for good or bad, just never bored
I'd never rot behind a desk, not to age like all the rest

Take a walk down to the park and feed the birds until they pop
Then take their bursted bodies to the girl who always smiles at you

"You would handle things a little differently than me?"

Must be nice to be "Mr. P.C."...
Massive intentions from a tiny little man

Looking back I thought I saw people for just what they were:
Instinctive copulating links in a chain that circulates
I'd never grow up to be pulled, never tire, never get old

So tie a rope around your neck and the other end to the past
Clench your jaw, grit your teeth and go nowhere fast

So tie a rope around your neck and the other end to the past
Clench your jaw, grit your teeth and prepare your body for death

Sneak into school after hours and let the class' mice all out
Guinea pig and gerbils too, then let a snake into the room
And if you should arrive next morn to scenes of camp and gore, take it in and then ask for some more
Misdirected animosity

So tie a rope around your neck and the other end to the past
Clench your jaw, grit your teeth and prepare your body for death

(Because I was there before. The rebellious kid, head and heart all mixed up and filled with spit
I was snake before in other lives chasing my tail and wondering just where I end.)

I forget where exactly we met; the me from the future and the me from the past
A child like whimsy smothered out by routine
I'll never know adventure, never dream again; for theres no fight left in me

Exploded birds pave the streets in my mind
Guilt is sticky like the summers where we'd stay up all night
A child like persistence knocked off course by dumb fears
I'll never know just how, never be able to tell you; I think I wasted some years…