Look at you mournin' about the stress, Yawnin' because you forgot to rest, You could care less about mowing the lawn, Nest yourself up with the pesty animals that start crowing at dawn, Torn away at your best, Worn away by the test of gesture, Chester-nut thorns start to make you reborn, At the corn of after morning, And the horn of tomorrow's spawn, Wash away the sorrows you long to burrow down into the soils of earth's core, What's more to ask? You wanted this before right? The pores of your sore eyes, The tears leaked out from your fear you hear with your ears, This isn't such a bore, You just need to fight the war.