Two black lines streaming out like a guidance line.
Put one foot on the road now where the sybourgs(?) are driving,
With the WD-40 in their veins-
Your screeching little brakes complains.
With the briefcase empty and the holes in my shoes,
I try to stay friendly for the sugary abuse.
So tell my secretary now to hold all of my calls,
I believe I can hear through these walls.
Oh please save me, save me from myself.
I can't be the only one stuck on the shelf.
You said you'd always fall for the underdog.
Well I've been dreaming of jetstreams and kicking up dust,
A thirty seven thousand foot wonderlust
And with skyline number 9 ticked off on my mind,
Oh can you hear me screaming out now through the telephone lines.
Oh please save me, save me from myself.
I can't be the only one stuck on the shelf.
You said you'd always fall for the underdog.
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