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Ghost town, walking among the zombies
 Faced down, their eyes are never on me
 Back stop to the warm
 Plugged into a pocket
 Sigh, might as well just die
 I could try to emulate the brain-dead
 But I get sick and tired of the radio
 Buzzing like a hornet in the playpen
 I'll unplug, feel my head, feel alright
 Goddamn, set yourself on fire
 Strong crowd to walk you to the fire
 Don't be who you are, they'd rather see your riot
 Son, I don't like my mind
 I would like to medicate the brain-dead
 But I get sick and tired in the waiting room
 Keep me so unwell that I'm your best friend
 Nice and quiet, we'll behave, I'm alright
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