Inside me head is a broken record,
Need work, need work, need work.
I keep hearing things are getting better,
But I keep hearing things are getting worse, too.
I would like to get the record fixed,
But it seems they don’t make them anymore.
Everything has gone digital
And the glitch in my head is something new,
Some way things work I don’t understand any more.
Maybe Alvin was right.
Maybe everything is too fast now.
Were all on a merry-go-round gone berserk,
It’s made it near imposable to grab the brass ring.
I remember that old song maybe,
“Stop the world. I want to get off.”
It’s different now.
If you don’t hold on tight enough
The centrifugal force will hurl you into space.
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