It All Makes No Sense

Is this a message? Is this a call?

Is this a glorified free-for-all all?

Meaningless words littered round our lips

Why’s everybody always talking shit?

Politicians and influencers

What the fuck have they got us into?

Is this a message? Is this a call?

Or will the House of Cards eventually fall?

Pa da pa da pa

Cool cats cruising in a Cadillac down to California

She sings songs on a Saturday night in Sante-Fe

They think that therapy is a Thirsty Thursday

It all makes no sense.

So we all freak out with our fake friends and pretend.

Hold on tight. We’re all in for a wild ride

Holding on and hopeful, let's escape the fight

In the obscurity of our insecurity, let’s emulate the brave and go out with dignity.

Hold on tight in these wild, wild times.

Cocaine kids, cruising for a crash, caught up in destructive chaos

Sentimental songs about sensitive feelings, oh, my cynical mind says, “screw it.”

Thank you for the thoughts, but I prefer the thoughtlessness of a therapeutic thirsty Thursday.

Gussy lies on the grass, gazing at galaxies, drinking up the Guinness night sky.

Thommy tries hard, and then he tries a little harder, like a tiger tip-toeing on a tightrope.

Jaxon cracks a joke; he feels an immense sense of joy from the uninhibited insanity of laughter.

It all makes no sense.

So we all freak out with our fake friends and pretend.

This is a message. This is a call.

Before those greedy guts eat us all

       

Greedy guts, eat us