It's quite right that it's white, because I know black and blue ain't far behind
This must be a case for the coconut spy
Running down my ear like a vanilla lie
It's quite right that it's white, becuse I know others ain't far behind
Feeling canned
Bottled up
Shrinked wrapped and ready to be sold
What are these explosions in my head
It must be something that was not said
Im always waiting to get out, waiting to get out
These thoughts always stir
Diagnosed with the syndrome of restless words
Dont need to be medicated
Just need my fruit to be loose like a parachute
Its just quite right.