Mean Mr. Mustard says he's bored Of life in The District Can't afford the French Quarter high Says it gets old real quick And he pales up next to me Scrawled on the pavement It says Son, time is all the luck you need And if I stay lucky, then my tongue will stay tied And I won't betray the things that I hide There's not enough years underneath this built For me to admit the way that I felt Mean Mr. Mustard says: Don't be The wave that crashes From a sea of discontent He says he's wrestled with that blanket It leaves you cold and wet Any way you stretch it Divine apathy, disease of my youth Watch that you don't catch it And if I stay lucky, then my tongue will stay tied And I won't betray the things that I hide There's not enough years underneath this built For me to admit the way that I felt Down the wave that crashes, from A sea that turns itself Inside out every chance I get See what it's like in hell, yeah, yeah