All of the time I'm thinking about things too much And then I end up out of touch and feel a lot less real than before I speak a lot of words but tend to say a lot less I'm just a * mess and I will shut my bedroom door And as I iron out my brain to speak to ice cream stains I'll stare at the ceiling stars and ponder why life's so hard Locking the door, I will talk to my floor And I'll say, oh, my friend, I'm not sure what to do To get out of this good mood that I absorb How to stop myself, hell, if I know As above, so below, I'm my own dancefloor Most of the time I'm scooping mud and digging graves In these saltwater caves and overgrown hospitals the like I'll step along the way to tell the frogs and toadstools About how I hate this body and they'll say Oh, they'll say we would like to help you But it seems you're living in dreams coming back to reality I'll cry, wait, and I will wake up late again And in the morning once more I will speak to the floor And I'll say, oh, my friend, I'm not sure what to do To get out of this good mood that I absorb How to stop myself, hell, if I know As above, so below, I'm my own damn spirit orb As above, so below, I'm my own damn spirit orb