lyrical fitness

up from the basement to my best friends' farm where we'll work so hard, we can do no harm. we'll till the land and duck our debts underneath soft sun, chewing nicorette.
this will be a better year. this will be a better year.
make a little money, take a lot of shit. feel real bad then get over it.
this will be a better year.
oh i keep pushing boulders. i stay game till sun'll shake my shoulders. oh, i keep feeling older. i stay game, stay game, stay game.
the east coast kids, man, we just don't know. singing wait, wait, stop, drop me, go, go go. but i'm taken by the hand to a blue pay phone; we can break blue laws with our skin and bones.
and now i'm back in the city, i'm counting frick, frick, frick. heard of milk great things, speaking soft and thick. he said, "if life gives you lemons, then thus god bad. so put a little bit of bitter in your pink lemonade".
i'm sick of thee sheep, i'm sick of thou shepard. i'm sick of dressing like a human when i'm feeling like a leopard. i'm sick of slow rock, i'm sick of quick quips. sick of holding on to nothing when i just want to hold your hips.
this will be a better year. this will be a better year.
make a little money, take a lot of shit. feel real bad then get over it.
this will be a better year.
oh i keep pushing boulders. i stay game till the sun'll shake my shoulders. oh, i keep feeling older. i stay game, stay game, stay game.