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the president - nervous conditions lyrics

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there’s no rhyme or reason, but it’s time for treason
the holster in hand as it goes
for all of the decrepit men and women, this is how it goes

with her mind, life, and soul to the routine [?]
a clean life, it seems
it’s a language i don’t understand
i hope the mediocre life leaves me be, see

when the zeitgeist is a shopping center
this train is like a freight train
the theme is washing dishes
[?]

the grieving [?] doesn’t feel too good
that [?] gets your feeling coming in increments
the grieving [?]; he doesn’t feel too good
it’s a branded mutual feeling you will know

- nervous conditions lyrics

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