Good With Numbers

I'm not sure when it started When it ends do I applaud it Because I'm thinking I should ditch this Irish goodbyes are my weakness So much standing around and talking All these wretched mouths are frothing They can see the visage moving But they can't stop what feels stupid They're a shark that must keep moving Eating, fucking, and consuming And I know it sounds so stupid But I wish I could be lucid And I'd start by yelling something To contribute to the grumbling Of inebriated fools left bizarrely with the tools So they can deconstruct themselves And put their parts back on the shelves Why rebuild what doesn't work Just a top off for the jerk You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound You're rubbing nickels for the sound I know that it's hard to be alone I know that you're reaching for the phone I just need you to know that it's not the right move Call another time