The National:Racing Like A Pro

You're pink, you're young, you're middle-class.
They say it doesn't matter.
Fifteen blue shirts and womanly hands;
You're shooting up the ladder.

Your mind is racing like a pro now,
Oh my god it doesn't mean a lot to you.
One time you were a glowing young ruffian,
Oh my god it was a million years ago.

Sometimes you get up and bake a cake or something.
Sometimes you stay in bed.
Sometimes you go la di da di da di da da,
'Til your eyes roll back into your head.

Your mind is racing like a pro now,
Oh my god it doesn't mean a lot to you.
One time you were a glowing young ruffian,
Oh my god it was a million years ago.

You're dumbstruck baby.
You're dumbstruck baby, now you know.
You're dumbstruck baby.
You're dumbstruck baby, now you know.

Your mind is racing like a pro now,
Oh my god it doesn't mean a lot to you.
One time you were a glowing young ruffian,
Oh my god it was a million years ago.

You're dumbstruck baby.
You're dumbstruck baby, now you know.
You're dumbstruck baby.
You're dumbstruck baby, now you know.
You're dumbstruck baby.