Gaze across the days, the wicked ways the world has passed you by.
     Wander sadly by the pregnant sky. The mother of you booby prize 
     you hold inside. Your booby prize; it’s your whole life.

     Gone the other way, the accolades had such a sour flavor.
     Bundle up and sigh, roll up your eyes and look into your booby prize.
     you hold inside. Your booby prize; it’s your whole life.

     When you go outside you take the prize.
     When you go for a drive, you take the prize.
     In your own headlights you’re taking the prize

     It’s the choice you voiced inside, outside.
     Are you occupied? Are you satisfied?
     Are you locked outside? Are you mocked inside?