The World is Your Motel

歌詞

I sit with my bouquet plucking petals torturously I have no mercy. I set the bar real high then come up just shy Then pound my desk (with the utmost frustration). And so it runs! Just enough! It's fine! I keep a good attitude! But I'll never be Elvis I guess. Just one big, moist bag of garbage Missed the low hum that connects things A dumpy woman in a track suit It's all the same to me, man I can send mail, cook food, And complete other simple tasks, if required. My resumé, while less than impressive, is consistent. I'm at the mercy of machines Out of context, that could sound like a real problem But it's only in pictures.