all those rumors, they're not true

time's running out
I'm falling behind
in a world out to
rob me blind
so what do I do
to catch up to you
all those rumors, 
they're not true
it's self-defense
it's number one
it's the milky way
and a hot dog bun
saints, preserve us
I live in service
to the nervous 
and all those
wearing rags instead of clothes
you are not among them,
I suppose