Hey you caught me in a coma
And I don’t think I wanna
Ever come back to this…world again
Kinda like it in a coma
'Cause no one's ever gonna
Oh, make me come back to this…
world again
Now I feel as if I’m floating away
I can’t feel all the pressure
And I like it this way
But my body’s callin’
My body’s callin’
Won’t ya come back to this…
world again
Suspended deep in a sea of black
I’ve got the light at the end
I’ve got the bones on the mast
Well I’ve gone sailin’,
I’ve gone sailin’
I could leave so easily
While friends are calling back to me
I said they’re
They’re leaving it all up to me
When all I needed was clarity
And someone to tell me
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON
GODDAMN IT!

Slippin’ farther an farther away
It’s a miracle how long we can stay
In a world our minds created
In a world that’s full of shit

HELP ME
HELP ME
HELP ME
HELP ME
BASTARD

Please understand me
I’m climbin’ through the wreackage
Of all my twisted dreams
But this cheap investigation just 
Can’t stifle all my screams
And I’m waitin’ at the crossroads
Waiting for you
Waiting for you
WHERE ARE YOU

No one’s gonna bother me anymore
No one’s gonna mess with my head no more
I can’t understand what all the fightin’s for
But it’s so nice here down off the shore
I wish you could see this
'Cause there's nothing to see
It’s peaceful here and it’s fine with me
Not like the world where I used to live
I NEVER REALLY WANTED TO LIVE

ZAP HIM AGAIN
ZAP THE SON OF A BITCH AGAIN

Ya live your life like it’s a coma
So won’t you tell me why we’d wanna
With all the reasons you give it’s
It’s kinda hard to believe
But who am I to tell you that I’ve 
Seen any reason why you should stay
Matbe we’d be better off
Without you anyway
You got a one way ticket
On your last chance ride
Gotta one way ticket
To your suicide
Gotta one way ticket
An there’s no way out alive
An all this crass communication
That has left you in the cold
Isn’t much for consolation
When you feel so weak and old
But is home is where the heart is
Then there’s stories to be told
No you don’t need a doctor
No one else can heal your soul

Got your mind in submission
Got your life on the line
But nobody pulled the trigger
They just stepped aside
They be down by the water
While you watch ‘em waving goodbye
They be callin’ in the morning
They be hangin’ on the phone
They be waiting for an answer
When you know nobody’s home
And when the bell’s stopped ringing
It was nobody’s fault but your own
There were always ample warnings
There were always subtle signs
And you would have seen it comin’
But we gave you too much time
And when you said
That no one’s listening
Why’d your best friend drop a dime
Sometimes we get so tired of waiting
For a way to spend our time
An “It’s so easy” to be social
"It’s so easy" to be cool
Yeah it’s easy to be hungry
When you ain’t got shit to lose
And I wish that I could help you
With what you hope to find
But I’m still out here waiting
Watching reruns of my life
When you reach the point of breaking
Know it’s gonna take some time
To heal the broken memories
That another man would need
Just to survive
Tant qu’on désire, on peut se passer d’être heureux ; on s’attend à le devenir : si le bonheur ne vient point, l’espoir se prolonge, et le charme de l’illusion dure autant que la passion qui le cause. Ainsi cet état se suffit à lui-même, et l’inquiétude qu’il donne est une sorte de jouissance qui supplée à la réalité, qui vaut mieux peut-être. Malheur à qui n’a plus rien à désirer ! il perd pour ainsi dire tout ce qu’il possède. On jouit moins de ce qu’on obtient que de ce qu’on espère et l’on n’est heureux qu’avant d’être heureux. En effet, l’homme, avide et borné, fait pour tout vouloir et peu obtenir, a reçu du ciel une force consolante qui rapproche de lui tout ce qu’il désire, qui le soumet à son imagination, qui le lui rend présent et sensible, qui le lui livre en quelque sorte et, pour lui rendre cette imaginaire propriété plus douce, le modifie au gré de sa passion. Mais tout ce prestige disparaît devant l’objet même ; rien n’embellit plus cet objet aux yeux du possesseur ; on ne se figure point ce qu’on voit ; l’imagination ne pare plus rien de ce qu’on possède, l’illusion cesse où commence la jouissance.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau