Kentucky Fried Brain, nothing to do today
The world is just a boring place anyway
No dragons, no elves, no hidden treasure
No aliens, no lizard men, no such pleasure
No cowboys, no knights, no sorcerers
No adventures beyond these white corridors
They say a book is a best friend for life
Closer than family, closer than a wife
But how can I cross this mystical portal
When my soul is aware that it’s mortal?
I don’t have the keys to heaven’s gates
I know that a lot of you can surely relate
If that’s the case, then why the slow pace?
Why am I in last place in this human race?
Why does the back of the line feel lonely?
Why does the prison of my mind feel homely?
Why is my mattress the best place for me?
Why is the white ceiling all I can see?
Why can’t I remember any of my dreams?
Waking up has become impossible it seems
Better luck tomorrow or the day right after
Maybe I’ll wait for another New Years disaster
Maybe I’ll wait until my skin is leathery
Maybe my golden years will have more energy
Even with a bed in the retirement home?
Even when I’ve got nowhere else to roam?
You bet your sweet ass, my fellow corpse
Kentucky Fried Brain, final meal course
Heart attack city, a self-cannibal’s cost
No gravity in heaven, floating and lost
Good thing I have the patience of a saint
You know the old phrase: hurry up and wait
When one door closes, another one opens
Until that one locks and you feel hopeless
The universe doesn’t slow for one person
Even when you’re trapped in the hearses
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