Our Dying Brains - Grandaddy

The science halls

Have hollow walls

And sodden carpet

At least the cops don’t come in Spare us the legal poems

Broken legs can’t run anyway

Some days were missed

Ten kegs at Albers

And Albers turns into geer

And hours become years

Well get back to work

Right back to work I swear

Our beakers are still full of beer

Crotch rockets

And violins

We chisled and we switched

Naw, but their not gonna mix

So please can our dying brains

Take another break