My tumbling ocean of dismay! A life jacket is putting up a fight. By the bathroom you wish to say, "It's not an ocean at all." One must ask what is it then? "A small puddle in a clawfoot tub." Yes, for certain, but look again. I grasp breathless for the wall.

And you're just standing there in the slippers your grandma sewed. It's like you don't even seem to care. You've no emotion at all.

I've put my seatbelt on, secured, my hope's all gone. Oh no, there is no sense in waiting with all my watch springs broken — and you can save your joke about the timely death of some far-right senator who failed to put his seatbelt on.

But this song's not about politics, just the guy in the hall who's blowing kisses at you and then hurling bricks toward my end of the hall. Yeah, but isn't that always the way? The cards are dealt without any reason. Hey, at least I've got rhymes today, though they're predictable, all.

I've put my seatbelt on. (Do ron, a do ron ron.) Oh no, there is no sense in waiting just so I can reek of smoke — and you can save your joke about the misadventures of some equally shy and equally young fool who, despite his deathwish, still put his seatbelt on.