Lyrics:

Oh, I'm so agitated, so agitated

Run through a washing machine, agitated,

I'm so agitated, I'm so convoluted

I don't know what I know, but I'd just like to shoot it

It's five a.m. and I'm crawling the walls, waiting for imaginary telephone calls

You know what I think, I think the whole world stinks, and I don't need no shrink, I just hate it

Sometimes I think I'd be better off dead, just like my cousin Fred.