Sweat burning in my eyes
I guess that it's no surprise
From walking on the sun
I'm gonna dust my broom and run
But I'm a mess at best
And it's always such a rage
A test for the blessed
Living in the static age
I'm a fanatical radical
Who slipped down through the cracks
They want me to bite the dust
But I'm already on my back
Their words are like bullets
Like drunk crashing gods
How can I see through it
And beat these odds