Now baby get up out that water
Cuz every castle in the sand's bout to falter
It's like the Rock of Gibraltar
Another sheep selfishly sent to the slaughter, holler

(It's gonna be one of those songs,)
He lives like an audition
He skipped his intuition
Living like a nerve, on feelings and superstitions
He swerves through classes and curves through masses
And passes a million dirty looks, he shuffles books
His every moment is staged, He feels he's plagued with this playwright
Who fails to give his character some insight
Oh, and every time he gets the cue to speak his mind
Enter stage left, an understudy steps on his lines
Not a word, spoke, he goes unheard
Is this a joke? His melodrama's now the theater of the absurd
It seems his author serendipities the music, comedy, drama
Weathered and haggardly enters the muse in tragedy, cool
Change his script, and change the block, and change roles
Pulls the gun from his bag and gets to cockin'
Pulls the trigger at the kids who kept him as an outsider
Turns that shit on himself, so he can finally meet his writer
Little kids, ok

Little kid walks out in the street
Man behind the wheel looks for change under the seat
Little girl belly hurt, she holds strong
Woman gives up hope, says it's been too long
Peace, love, unity, respect
Parties over, dancin' with a needle in his neck
Bright eyes, they be dark when dad comes home
Pretends to count sheep so that she'll be left alone
She only did for money once or twice
Said he learned the true meaning of Minnesota nice
A ??? sea breeze fixed his head
Mother shakes and screams, tries to wake the dead
Little kids live on incomplete
Little kids trip without the prospect of a beat
Steady comin' down from a roll all wrong
Little kids stay little kids cuz growin' up is gone

She was always well dressed, well groomed, well known
But she hid behind a canvas the second she got home
She loved to paint, nothin' in particular
Just blues and grays, that's how she felt throughout her days
Her landscape was shaped by friends and hangers-on
From boys to the push-up bras they pulled on
But she was always very wary, cuz popularity's scary
Especially when sincerity rarely comes in clearly
To her it was all fake, mock life, mock friends
She wanted to paint it white, and start again
She wrote letters to her little brother and mother
And packed up her stuff
Then she ran like water colors
Now, a little change in scenery never hurt nothin' but still-life
But still, life's been everything but real for her right?
Without her crew, she's like, without a clue, so like
She don't know who she's like, know what I mean?
She found a crew she likes, started up new
But the only thing that's left of her is the paint on her jeans
So she'll be gone soon

Little kid walks out in the street...

Now baby get up out that water...