Drive-time DJ gimme the news
I've got a bad case of impotent road rage
I'm stomping on the brake like a man possessed
hover-handing horn like I can't repress
the urge to lash out at the sea of humanity
in faded semi-gloss car carapaces
sure, just ride the lane out
merge whenever you want
Not in a hurry
haven't been here for 45 fucking minutes or anything
heavy rests the burden on the whiny douche
quit complaining, don't tense up, don't groan or yell
What do I deserve? some empty roads?
a large-scale apocalypse to lighten the load
hell, just pull over and wait
what's so urgent that it can't?
the tingle on my skin, the crawling sensation
all i want to do is mangle my own hands
Deep breath again
Turn the Radio Off
it's a bad time for ska anyway
Seconds tick by
cars crawl forward
it's no one's fault
we're all in it together
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