what's it like inside your head where you know you're the king?
and your wisdom and your talent are both never-ending
where you help the little people who all need your helping
and the extent of who you are is more than just buying jeans
you and i are no one, both already dead
and i know that things are wonderful inside of your head but...
you're so stupid, you make no sense
you're so dense
you're unintelligent, irrelevant with no self-defense
and i'm tired of hearing you speak, i'm so weak
because every single thing that you say sucks the life from me
always so grown up and so in need of your space
to make the world invert inside of you and put things in place
and to really be a man you've got to find you a wife
one that can barely breathe on her own
you need a spousal parasite
you and i are nothing, heavy brains made of lead
and you always seem much bigger when you're inside your head but...
the stones i'm throwing hit the wall and bounce back
crush my bones under the weight of my attack
my sentence condemns me to dragging my chain
across the dessert of my selfishness and i am only to blame
