Lately I need a better plan
I want to get my knees out in the dirt with my hands
'Cause I have been a cerebral spouse
And my head wants to go into the emerald house
And I want to look out
I don't want to bail out
And I want to help out
I don't want to nod out
And I want to help out
I don't want to bail out
And I want to look out
I don't want to nod out
I don't want to knock you down
But why am I still looking for a golden age?
Tell me that I ought to have a golden wage
Every time I look up at that blurry sun
All I think about are bodies floating up
Everybody ought to get that special glance
Why does dawn leave everybody home with chance?
Makes me wonder how I even wrote this song
Does this not occur to almost everyone?
I make a monkey wretch
I make a monkey rich
And lately I want to be in my heart
But where exactly is my heart and where does it start?
Don't want that Tylenol
Can I sing and make waves without crushing clams?
I can help the little things but I have big plans
Don't want that Tylenol
So I want to look out
I don't want to bail out
And I want to help out
I don't want to nod out
And I want to look out
I don't want to let out
And I want to help out
I don't want to nod out
I don't want to knock you down
But why am I still looking for a golden age?
Tell me that I ought to have a golden wage
Every time I look up at that blurry sun
All I think about are bodies floating up
Everybody ought to get that special glance
Why does dawn leave everybody home with chance?
Makes me wonder how I even wrote this song
Does this not occur to almost anyone?
I make a monkey wretch
I make a monkey rich
Why am I still looking for a golden age?
Tell me that I ought to have a golden wage
Every time I look up at that blurry sun
All I think about are spirits floating up
Everybody ought to get that special glance
Why does dawn leave everybody home with chance?
Makes me wonder how I even wrote this song
Does this not occur to almost everyone?
I make a monkey wretch
I make a monkey rich
A pretty epic sounding song off Centipede Hz, thanks in large part to the almost tribal drum underbelly that thrusts this song forward. The buildup of this song, particularly the percussion, sounds quite similar to that of "Brother Sport" and "We Tigers." It's the band's longest album cut since 2007's "Fireworks," and while it does possess the characteristically busy and noisy intrusiveness of the rest of Hz, it possesses a sense of direction and purpose that justifies the song's near-seven minutes.
Avey questions why he's still searching for "a golden age," which could be a reference to just about anything really: music, career goals, life in general. The question itself is an introspection as to why he keeps driving himself toward his goals, and he wonders when he will arrive at a point of total contentedness. It's all a bit fatalist, really - why did I even write this song? why do people even bother leaving the house? doesn't anybody else ask this same question? It's all a bit of a retread from his philosophizing on "Father Time," except this time around there's an added crescendo that finishes with some excellent screaming and tongue-wagging yells at the end.