Eating like a bird
and sleeping like a sloth
Lying like a turtle
and dying like a moth

I don’t believe in depression
but I sure as hell believe
in leisure oppression

Getting sick of the smell
of suntan lotion
Give me dreary snowy days
I’ll trade you the ocean

Eating like a pig
and starving like an artist
Keeling like a softy
even though I try my hardest

I don’t believe in reality
but I sure as hell believe
In utmost brutality

Cash in these tickets
of beach approach parking
Give me icy metal meters
and fireplaces sparking

Filled and emptied this big mouth
Going up, up, up, in the dead South
Head is bouncing back and forth
Time to come down, down, down
in the living North.