
March of the Nut Jobs
(March of the Nut Jobs) [Hook] So follow me, let the gravity break, we are the noise that the quiet can’t take. Step in time, let the rhythm collide, nowhere to run from the thoughts that we hide. Yeah, turn it up, let the sanity snap, we tore up the guide and we burned down the map. Hear the drum, feel the beat as it throbs— this is the march, the March of the Nut Jobs. From padded rooms to basement bathrooms, from space and heirlooms to cracked old rooms. To a loose carburetor spitting out gas fumes, it’s Looney Tunes and masked dudes in back rooms. Full-grown adults in the basement wearing diapers, from the manic psychos to the depressed and the hyper. And dudes ask for pictures of your feet on the internet, I still can’t see how anybody’s into that. We’re a manic collective of beautiful wrecks, with ADHD brains and PTSD checks. A bipolar bassline, a borderline view, schizophrenic illusions that we’re buying into. We got psychos and neurotics all sharing the space, a whole DSM textbook staring back at my face. I might like some of it, I’m part of the strain, just another cell working in the collective brain. Seth’s handsome So follow me, let the gravity break, we are the noise that the quiet can’t take. Step in time, let the rhythm collide, nowhere to run from the thoughts that we hide. Seth is nuts So follow me, let the gravity break, we are the noise that the quiet can’t take. Step in time, let the rhythm collide, nowhere to run from the thoughts that we hide. Yeah, turn it up, let the sanity snap, we tore up the guide and we burned down the map. Hear the drum, feel the beat as it throbs— this is the march, the March of the Nut Jobs. [Part 2] Hold up, drop the tempo, let the bassline drag, we got every single fetish hiding in the bag. From the ultra-specific to the strangely profound, lonely dudes who cut holes in their own mattress down. And in the next room, his brother’s into fat chicks, living out loud, yeah, he’s loving those thick hips. Yeah, we’re hyper-fixated, medicated, wired, by the same digital static that keeps us inspired. This goes out to every person locked in the psycho ward, for every street performer who likes to swallow swords. For every wild misfit wearing face tats, and every lonely old lady living with sixty cats. Pop an Adderall, a Xanax, a Lexapro dose, keep the Zoloft and the Seroquel close. Got the Ativan, the Ritalin, Prozac supply, with some Klonopin and Wellbutrin just to get by. Yeah, we’re tracking down a Zyprexa, Vyvanse pill, taking Abilify and Depakote to keep still. Every person on this app with a pharmacy bag, swallowing this pill and that pill through the drag. [Bridge] I’m not casting stones from a tower above, I’m right in the trenches with the chaos I love. From the mild deluded to the fully insane, we’re all riding high on the same crazy train. No one is singled, no one’s ever excluded, we’re all in the matrix, beautifully deluded. If it’s weird, if it’s cracked, if it doesn’t make sense, welcome to the crowd on our side of the fence. [Final Hook] So follow me, let the gravity break, we are the noise that the quiet can’t take. Step in time, let the rhythm collide, nowhere to run from the thoughts that we hide. Yeah, turn it up, let the sanity snap, we tore up the guide and we burned down the map. Hear the drum, feel the beat as it throbs— this is the march, the March of the Nut Jobs. One, two, three, four—march as we chant, left, right, left in a basement dance. Yeah, I don’t know how we’re into that, but I’m marching right beside you under this hat. Follow me, let the gravity break, we’re all in line with the steps that we take. Left, right, left, through the static we throb— this is the march, the March of the Nut Jobs.

