So tired you could sleep with the light on,
with the stereo blasting in your ear,
you know you're tired when your senses fail.
I'm a coin laundry loser with a degree.
I'm the car alarm in an 83 Pontiac, painted black.
Keep the loved ones posted,
someday they will have to come and bail you out.
Hold your breath, count to ten,
save your cursing for the navy wingnut.
So caught up in being noteworthy,
the average ghost is haunting someone else.
You know you're wired when your senses fail.
I'm a coin laundry loser....