Knives, Bats and New Tats

ever get the feeling ideals can't take us where we need to go? sometimes i'd like to just maybe squash your head, but the next time that i see you i'll probably just smile and say hello. what's wrong with me? why can't you see it's all the same? but next time that star shoots across the sky, i'm gonna grab it and smash it under my feet. who the fuck wants to be happy? i'll sleep on the floor and i'll just lock my door so don't come and tell me "turn down that shit you play". i wonder what it would be like to be real deep and dark, typical, boring. boring? yeah, that's me. if i made up the rules, you would not be so close to me.