Mean Mr. Mustard says he's bored
of life in the district.
He can't afford the French Quarter high
says it gets old real quick.
And he pales up next to me
and scrawled on the pavement
It says: son, time is all the luck you need.
Chorus: And if i stay lucky then my tongue will stay tied
and I won't betray the things that I hide.
There's not enough years underneath this belt
For me to admit the way that I felt
Mean Mr. Mustard says don't be the wave that crashes
From a sea of discontent, he says he's wrestled with that blanket...
It leaves you cold and wet any way you stretch it.
Divine apathy! Disease of our youth watch that you don't catch it
And I'm the wave that crashes....
From a sea that turns itself
And inside out every chance I get to
see what it's like in Hell....Hell