Seven Degrees Of Seperation
My girlfriend? Asian
My stories? Bold and brazen
My second language? Broken
My politics? Contrary and outspoken
My music? Over-compressed
My doctors opinion? Over-depressed
My sperm count? On one hand
My workplace? Loves Ayn Rand
My aspiration? Consumption
My greatest fear? Is reproduction
My coffee? Made at home
My cooking? Tastes like stone
And my pets? Apartment-tolerant
My neighbours? Indeterminate origin
My existence? Is filled with joy
I swear I'm not like the other boys
I got a bachelor degree
I got a bachelor degree
Look, trust me
I got a bachelor degree
Look, trust me
I got a bachelor degree
My parents? Doctors
My birth certificate? Now reads adopted
My hairstyle? Windswept
My HECS debt? Forever indexed
My time capsules? Buried underground
My high school poems? They ain't profound
My gym membership? It's untouched
My blood pressure? In God I trust
I got a master's degree
I got a master's degree
Look, trust me
I got a master's degree
Look, trust me
I even went to RMIT
I can be a Marxist, if you want me to
I can love anarchy, if you want me to
I'll worship Adorno, if you want me to
I'll recite John Donne, if you want me to
I'll take the money from Thiel, if you want me to
I'll join skulls and bones, if you want me to
I write ten essays bland, if you want me to
And I'll forget what I learned when you pay me too, because:
My weekends? They're bereft
My performance review? Totally inept
My mental state? Completely burned out
My short courses? I dropped out
And my concentration's wavering
The chip on my shoulder I am savouring
My final report? I'm down and out
My humanity is something I can live without because
I got a P.H.D
I got a P.H.D
Look, trust me
I got a P.H.D
Look, trust me
I even went to Melbourne Uni
My stories? Bold and brazen
My second language? Broken
My politics? Contrary and outspoken
My music? Over-compressed
My doctors opinion? Over-depressed
My sperm count? On one hand
My workplace? Loves Ayn Rand
My aspiration? Consumption
My greatest fear? Is reproduction
My coffee? Made at home
My cooking? Tastes like stone
And my pets? Apartment-tolerant
My neighbours? Indeterminate origin
My existence? Is filled with joy
I swear I'm not like the other boys
I got a bachelor degree
I got a bachelor degree
Look, trust me
I got a bachelor degree
Look, trust me
I got a bachelor degree
My parents? Doctors
My birth certificate? Now reads adopted
My hairstyle? Windswept
My HECS debt? Forever indexed
My time capsules? Buried underground
My high school poems? They ain't profound
My gym membership? It's untouched
My blood pressure? In God I trust
I got a master's degree
I got a master's degree
Look, trust me
I got a master's degree
Look, trust me
I even went to RMIT
I can be a Marxist, if you want me to
I can love anarchy, if you want me to
I'll worship Adorno, if you want me to
I'll recite John Donne, if you want me to
I'll take the money from Thiel, if you want me to
I'll join skulls and bones, if you want me to
I write ten essays bland, if you want me to
And I'll forget what I learned when you pay me too, because:
My weekends? They're bereft
My performance review? Totally inept
My mental state? Completely burned out
My short courses? I dropped out
And my concentration's wavering
The chip on my shoulder I am savouring
My final report? I'm down and out
My humanity is something I can live without because
I got a P.H.D
I got a P.H.D
Look, trust me
I got a P.H.D
Look, trust me
I even went to Melbourne Uni
Credits
Writer(s): Bartholomew Heeren
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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