I Can't Surf (And You Can't Really Do Anything Until You Realize You Do Nothing) (Radio Edit)

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Lex Treefrog

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I can't flirt, smoke, or effectively breath
With grandma's bandana wrapped around my nose
And with my modern occupation in a data cage
Where I was lucky just to be employed
When I was sixteen wasn't this just the dream?
When I was wasting all my words on your wall?
I got a geek stink and my belly's full
Is this the worst part of being poor?

Is this the worst part of being poor?
Well, what's the worst part of being poor?

I can't surf, leap, nor effectively speak
Upon the wave that's rolling over the world
And with my modern occupation as a burial installer
Where I was looking for to be employed
I've seen the scenes, themes, and the vacant memess
The enervation with detritus of old
I'm selling all my shit
But I can't even sell my bong
Without breaking a federal law

Without breaking a federal law
No well I can't even sell my bong
Without breaking a federal law
Breaking a federal law

I can't sleep, wink, or effectively leave
Upon the wave that's rolling over the world
And in a modern incantation of a meta-form
This is the moment I'm become the bug
You say my infinite jest is a form of contempt
But I'm trying my best to rip open my chest
I've got a modern occupation and a video father
So it hurts just to be employed

Oh, and I'll never be employed
Without breaking a federal law, no
No, because I can't even sell my bong
Without breaking a federal law
Without breaking a federal law

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