They're Coming to Get You, Barbara! Lyrics

The lifelong quest for meaning is futile

Forever sought rarely found

And one can knit the sweater themselves all they want

But where does one get the threads?

Finding it in white sticks

Finding it in upset stomachs

Finding it in heat flashes

And dim lit boxes

No one can afford to feed themselves anything not out of a box

No one has time to read the labels

Waiting for a weekend to spend paychecks on expensive hobbies and social gatherings that amount to nothing but stagnation

Waiting a lifetime to use energy for something resembling purpose in this mundane useless existence

No more third places to occupy the spaces left in the minds of hungry youths

Finding it in bar tabs

Finding it in upset stomachs

Finding it in swirling visions

And poisoned bottles

Sick to my stomach

Just throw it up

Aimless and fucked