I hear that old jungle playing
lost in a series of drum loops
we bun zoots, let out fears and exchange glances
dancing away those fears, through our shuffles and prances.
Everything tackled in a hard-headed manner
do it this way not, that way
and if not I'm not bothered
"I'd rather be robbing, or out in woods *******
say the ones who are bored.
Truth is we're all bored, stuck in the rat race.
No time to get space, no time to breath
Desperate for a reprieve, a rebate or a chance to go out and become a state.
This great wide world it'll hurt you
make you insignificant
If you allow it too.
I won't allow it too
so i shout louder, take more powder
and power through.
This way or that way we all end up in the same place
that earthy bed, just dust in space.
No noise now, like living in a vacuum
depth or meaning seems irrelevant in the face of this absurdity.
"Oh really, its just me?"
Relax, relax, re-lax, its all OK
no its not OK, its rotten and it'll be the same tomorrow and the next day.
Guess that it, all I've got to say.