Sitting Underneath of My Desk

Well I applied to teach high school
To cure my occupational depression
And was rejected
Now I'm sitting underneath of my desk
Trying to figure out
Just what to do now
It was the way out
Now the plan's all gone to shit
What is my life about

I had put all of this sadness in a box and a key
Dangled lower and lower until it was within reach
And then I looked around and thought:
"Well I don't like this metaphor about boxes"
I just got disappointed like
Everybody else who doesn't need a song about it

This is the eighth song I have written for the album
And I thought that at this point
I would have figured out some way around this
Small town ennui that persists to fucking haunt me
From A to G street while I'm throwing up
And getting myself kicked out of Blondie's

I fucking hate this 9 to 5 bullshit
I heard that David Foster Wallace loved his wife
And that his literature was critically acclaimed worldwide
But he still hung himself from a rafter on his patio
He left a private two page suicide note for his widow