I'm so afraid of getting sick

That it's making me sick

No consolation from music anymore

Pavements crackle like snow

Under the pressure of the sky

I know you know

I'm worshipping my own smell

And I shouldn't

It's making me dizzy

Burn the Billboard, people are too happy

[Chorus]

Post-modern era relativism

Is hypermobility of joints

Gridlocks are on their way

I know you know

Or don't

Disaster of brain and morality

Sweaty, pecan-skinned, frustrated, impatient

Post-modern era relativism

Is hypermobility of joints

Gridlocks are on their way

I know you know

Or don't

Post-modern era relativism

Is hypermobility of joints

Gridlocks are on their way

I know you know

Or don't

Gridlocks are on their way

I know you know

Or don't

Give me patience and drunken sunsets at breakdown lane

I know you or don't and so forth

It's been said before

When did these pricks drop their balls?

So many points of view makes a chilly vacuum

I feel like ventriloquist with a peptic ulcer