The Condition
The condition is so crushing as if all the world is crashing,
all the world comes crashing, world comes crashing down on me.
The news is a distorted view through someone else's glasses,
reprinted for the masses and so I killed my TV.
And are you the type to let yourself get scared?
We all go swimming naked, or at least strip to our underwear,
am I the type to miss you when I'm gone?
Well I guess it won't be that long...
Driving to strange places,
seeing even stranger faces and am I the type to let myself complain?
Everything's so foreign and so I plug my guitar into a broken amplifier
I am happy, I am sane and I am growing every day in every single way...
And I'm already gone,
and I'm feeling so free,
I will sing my victory song.
AWOOHOOHOO!