Lyrics:

Patrick, you see, I'm growing a mustache
And though I know I must ask you
Does it really make me look like a man?
SpongeBob, being a manager is just a tough job
I hope you're fit to be the best SpongeBoss they ever had
Working like a dog at the Krusty Krab

Now wait a minute
I think we hit a wall
I think we hit a psychic wall

Maybe we're just young and we won't know 'til we're old
Too young to free ourselves from this lonely fish bowl
Some kind of wall
Some kind of psychic wall

Some kind of wall
Some kind of psychic wall
We can get above

Come on, let's find a way to be happy
Not like Plankton, he will never be satisfied
Always complaining about his life

To his computer wife
You think he would've found by now
To be thought of as a king
You don't need a crown