On a postmark to a place
The noises that i make
Push a throttle into a maze
A myth that i create
When i play the parts that you hate
I'm working out words to say
There's a wino down the hall
He's drinking ten pints a day
On a credit card and he's late
He'll never get to pay
It don't matter here today
He's working out words to say
Drinking ten pints a day
I know i'll never make an effort like i did in night school
'cause this machinery is only equipped to be marvelled at
and though i'll never make an effort like i did in night school
The dead dreams, they're good