Things left to be dreamtnEnvision purpose that I never meantnPlans problicate dreams you'll never seennWhoo! (x4)nnI feel them divide into fluidsnTo hold my open stare in placenOr maybe let it stew or set in this jarnOr on my neck or to collectnDust in the atticnnI'm feeling more depressed than I did the other daynShell out the compliments mannOr spread them over the entire tiering cakenOr do me the favor of sparing me of my own private pyrite pity partynCause this bed pan produces only what smells of Mommy's little rotting vegetablennCage yourself in to make you feel at homenYour home is where your head is, k?