How many ways can it be said
A beating heart, the sweaty palms
A repetitive buzzing ringing through your head
Isn't it always the same

Isn't it always the same?
The boring circulation of the same old things
The boring reiteration of the same old flings
Tell me again what it is

Is it good?
Is it bad?
Is it exciting?
Is it sad?

How does it even matter  
That universal experience we've all had
That familiar endless chatter  
Of the same old feeling