Texty: House Boat. The Delaware Octopus. My Guts Have Shit For Brains.

This job has gotten old
I swear I'm getting way too old
To continue getting told what to do
By a twenty year-old dude
Who just moved here three months ago

Things are getting weird at school
I'm blending in and keeping cool
Crippled with Wisconsin fear that they all know the truth
My cover's blown
Thirty years old

I know that I've been sort of stuck
I'm catching up on growing up
I'm manning up and crawling out of this rut
I made my bed then lied in it
And slept through life all because
I made up my mind about my mind
About not making up my mind

I can't convey how it's frustrating
All I can do is keep complaining
I guess that it goes without saying
These days it's never ending
This shit is never ending

I know that this is all my fault
Ten years ago I would have scoffed at the thought of growing up
I made my bed then lied in it
And slept through life all because
I made up my mind about my mind
About not making up my mind
And I made up my mind
About not making up my mind
So I guess I'm making up my mind