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Here I am, sitting bored, with my back to the girls,

Who make my life so interesting, so freaking nice,

'Cos talking to them is like the pigs getting the pearls,

I may be a man, but, hell no, they aren't my vice.

They may like the attention, but they just don't give enough,

They can go their own way if they wanna act tough.

Hell, no, I won't bow, its my way or the highway,

I won't be the victim, though they think I'm the prey.

World peace is a myth when my mind is this crazy,

I'd rather sit here and act like I'm lazy.

I really don't care but I ain't a potted plant,

All this nonsense sounds like a Gregorian chant.

I guess the rage is all gone, 'cause I feel wasted,

The bitterness of life is all that I've tasted,

And I guess that this is the final threshold,

I've ate the bread and found the bread mold.