Never took a class before in
Self defense
Never looked at you before with
Common sense
Gird myself for a short sharp shock
Trace myself in sidewalk chalk
I'll shut my mouth, you do the talking
You're so proud of your circular karate chop
Afternoons in the mirror doing pop and lock
From the junk shop to the truck stop to the big big top
Detention hall, name on the wall and
Locker dent
Never mind the withered words of
Encouragement Pulling off my anorak
Dumping out my black backpack
Take what you like I'll keep on walking
You're so proud of your circular karate chop
Afternoons in the mirror doing pop and lock
From the junk shop to the truck stop to the big big top
You're still bragging about your telescoping roundhouse kick
You're still looking for your
Commodore's old control stick
So myopic, stay on topic
And this world is sick
Three rules from your sensei
One, Outsource your feelings.
Two, Limit your training to be task-specific.
Three, Assign regret to those accountable.
Detention hall, name on the wall and
Locker dent Never mind the withered words of
Encouragement Pulling off my anorak
Dumping out my black backpack
Take what you like I'll keep on walking
You're so proud of your circular karate chop
Afternoons in the mirror doing pop and lock
From the junk shop to the truck stop to the big big top
You're still braggin' about your telescoping roundhouse kick
You're still looking for your
Commodore's old control stick So myopic, stay on topic
Man, this world is sick
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written by LINNELL, JOHN / FLANSBURGH, JOHN
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.