Beck:Cyanide Breath Mint

Definitely,
this is the wrong place to be,
There's blood on the futon,
And there's a kid drinkin' fire.
Goin' down to the sea,
They got people to meet,
shakin' hands with themselves,
lookin' out for themselves,

When they ask you for credit,
give them a branch.
When they want u to get it,
chew on the grass.
I know, i know,
cos' they told me to tell you,
There's nothing to tell you.
There's nothing to sell you.

In the afternoon,
ridin' the escape goat,
burning equipment,
decomposing.
Cool off your jets,
Take off your sweats,
i got a funny feeling,
they got plastic in the after life.

When they want you to cry,
leap into the sky.
When they suck your mind,
like a pigeon you'll fly.
I know, i know
it's the postive people
runnin' from their time
lookin' for some feeling