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Arms
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Jon the Escalator
Jonathan, you're turning into Staos again
You're giving free rides to your friends
Your gentle head, circled by sweet means and ends
Save yourself, get out before they call the adults
They'll pick apart your foibles and faults
Like giant babies with diminished hopes
Took every test, passed them all
And passed them to your left
By yourself, in this house
It's really not so small
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You've been sweating, when you sleep
Always having boring dreams
Jonathan, you're busting at the seems
All hell breaks loose, in this house
When you are not around
Lying here, sad and stoned
Its really not so bad
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