There
Under the bridge
There's a monster
Lurking on the surface of your mind
All the time

It's a new kind of monster
It sputters sighs and cries
Raving in garbage tongues and grunts
Proclamations, provocations
Fabrications, defamations
Exclamations, indignation
And poor punctuation

And it's the words alone
Never sticks nor stones
That get you

That get you

And it's disgusting
Putrid and diseased
Dripping fat and sick
Bulging ass-cheek thick
And you never know for sure
Oh, how it teases its allure
Will the monster finally charge and gouge and gorge?
Will the monster finally go too far?

Better check
Check, check, check
Check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check
Check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check
Check, check, check
Check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check, check
Check

Like a litter-covered trail in the forest
Chip bags and beer cans
Condoms, cigarettes
Every time you check

That's what happens to your mind
Yeah

That's what happens to your mind

As you watch the monster
It digs deeper in your brain
Transforming neural pathways
With its toxic refrain
The path gets bigger
The path becomes a street
The street becomes a superwide, superdumb, superhighway
The forest logged
Filled with chain stores and smog
Now your mind is stuck in pounding traffic
Migraine sunlight suffocates you
Mufflers and horns
And stupid, bad, generic pop
Spitting out your shitty speakers
No bass
Just the din of tinny treble
Biting your teeth on the tinfoil metal
And sticky, gunked-up Big Gulp cups
Strewn on the shotgun floor
Yeah, just a big old pile of Big Gulp cups
Strewn all about the inside of your mind
All the time

For years, you study the monster
Practicing your irony and outrage
On a scraping violin
10.000 hours of shrieking malnutrition
Your practice makes you master of the monster

Your brain is chemically changed
Your mind goes dark and strange
And you fall apart
Like a naked mannequin
Clattering to the floor
I am not a fucking Luddite
Or a cracked Illuminati
Or a stubborn, crazy codger
I am sane
And I am telling you: The monster is real

And we are in trouble
We are in trouble
We are in trouble
We are in trouble
We are in trouble
We are in trouble
We are in trouble
We are in trouble

Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble