Oh, I'm so agitated, so agitatednRun through a washing machine, agitated,nI'm so agitated, I'm so convolutednI don't know what I know, but I'd just like to shoot itnnIt's five a.m. and I'm crawling the walls, waiting for imaginary telephone callsnnYou know what I think, I think the whole world stinks, and I don't need no shrink, I just hate itnnSometimes I think I'd be better off dead, just like my cousin Fred.