I open my eyes, and it's November, and I am in a freight elevator
And I'm in Las Vegas, but I haven't won any money
And everyone here is wearing clothing that I find confusing
And I wonder if they've won any money

Jeff tells me: It's not the drugs
It's Monday morning, and you can't get up
When your degree is staring daggers from the wall
Somewhere sunk inside your heart
There is a teensy-tiny part of you that sure could use some coffee
(Yeah)

I open my eyes, and I am sweating; I must have been dreaming
That punch I threw was... Just embarrassing
And all my dreams are always violent, but I'm not violent
So in my dreams, I'm not so good at fighting

There's this one where you and I
Are making brilliant love inside a 7-Eleven just past the city
And I can't save us when that guy gets up and jumps out
From behind the counter, gun in hand and grinning

Tell my sister I am with her, wherever she may go
If not pulpit, then, sure as shit, where she leads, I'll follow
Watch the corn grow in Ohio, let our kids grow strong and smart
Playing intramural sports, while we build the ark