I howl when the moon comes out
It sounds like a kicked dog
But I love it

I run in the moon-lit woods
Or over the side-streets
I can't give it up

I chase the scent on the wind
Or the music down the alley
It's close enough

I run alongside my brothers
In a video game online
I miss the wood

I sleep surrounded by my pack
I lie down alone in my bed
It's not the same

I wake with no one there
I roll over and sleep
A boy without his dog

I feel inadequate
in the department of manliness
in the sector of occupation
in the division of romance
in the office of sanity

I feel abundant
in the regiment of weakness
in the foundation of lazy
in the organization of loneliness
in the ministry of madness

My father built things
with his hands
My father fixed things
with this hands

I just spin lies
with my eyes
I find the "truth"
with my eyes

I don't know what to do with my hands
I feel like a bird
that walks on the ground
and barks like a dog

I don't know what to do with my hands
I built things once
now I don't even repair
I just destroy other's work

I don't know what to do with my hands
It's a fantastic presentation
But we just don't understand
why you did nothing with your hands

I don't know what to do with my hands
You're very persuasive
and I almost bought it
But you did nothing with body language

I don't know what to do with my hands
and I don't know why
I chase this life
Where I do nothing with my hands

1 Pill, 2 Pill
Red Pill, Blue Pill

I can take them from the box
I can take them; stop my pox
I can take them, here or there
I can take them, ill or fair

Putrid Pink Pills Push Persuasion
Pounding Poor Percussion, Pointlessly

My Pills, your Pills
Drink and swallow
Red Pills, Blue Pills
Empty and hollow

I can take them before bed
I can take them; clear my head
I can take them, then or now
I can take them; show you how

Here's How Happy Has Hidden
Hateful, Hopeful, Hindered, High

This Pill, that Pill
Have to eat it
Red Pill, Blue Pill
Just can't beat it

1 Pill, 2 Pill
Red Pill, Blue Pill

Lies, disappointment
The poem is exactly
same syllable count

The secret is
There is no secret

Everyone else was told
The secret is there
Sometimes they forget
to tell the poor kids

We just guess
the secret is important
and funny enough
figure out first
that there is no secret

Now I can't help
but to speak and stop
blathering fools
from speaking around
the non-existent secret
to how life should be

Poor kids know
it's whatever you want
that life becomes
unless you're rich
then life is
what the commercials say

The worst that could be
A violent hangover
Totally worth it