Lyrics:

I searched 'psychiatry' and surveyed the facts, $83 billion say Americans can't relax
I understand completely but I'd rather not ask, I clear the cobwebs from the corners and dispose of the vacuum bag

You're English, you'll be fine

Well Getchoo! Getchoo! Getchoo! But it's all downhill from here

This cabin fever, the shocks and the shivers, intoxicant rivers through binge drinker's livers
There's acres of dead space cadets, they're gonna need therapy with your last breath, sigh:
Thanks for the memory but it was getting in the way lately
Here's to the memory but if it's not killing me it doesn't bother me

Forty yard pass through the graveyard, what I can't catch is all you get! Acres of dead space cadets