Monday morning, feeling kind of blue. I just got in. I got so much left to do and I’ve only got six little dollars in my Venmo and I see a meeting on a snuggy little memo. Oh, my puzzle be there. But I barely even know I’m. He’ll probably read a verse from a shitty little poem and talk to his life with little babies in a cradle. I’m gonna be sick, man, and I think I need a biggle.
Oh, this stupid meeting is lasting all day. Wrong. I can’t get out of it. And so I wrote this song. Can someone help me? I feel like I’m in jail. This could have been an email. This could have been an email. This could have been an email. It’s gonna be an email.