Stick It On Backwards?
Fed up. Sick of the way I think, the way I talk. I yank my head off, throw it across the room. Give it a little wake-up call. Time for new ideas. New ways of looking at things. Like from under the table where it lands in the dust. Hopeless? I put it through the washing machine. Freshen my outlook. Run out of mischief. Been there, done that. It's not time to die.