There is a little rock
That hangs out in my house
And I looked at it one day
And I tought it was neat

But the rock became much needier
Than I had tought
And now I have to look at the rock
In order to live

And the rock tells me things
That I ought to do
And it makes me think the things I am
Are not so good

But the things that I am
Are all the things I'll be
And I'd like to stop looking
At the rock so much

Because when I look at the rock
Then I want to scream
And I'm beginning to think
That the rock is bad for me

But I've tied myself inexorably
To this rock
So I guess I will be treating myself
Bad for now

And the rock tells me that
If I stop looking at it
Then I will stop existing
And there's no more me

And I think the rock is lying
But I really can't be sure
Because I've never tried to stop
Looking at the rock

So I'll keep myself attache
To the rock I have
And I'll look at the rock
As much as it wants me to look

And in the moment that I decide
To stop looking at rock
I will feel extremely bad for choosing
To do other things

(La-di-da)
(Da-da-di-da)
(Da-di-da-da-da)
(La-di-da)
(Da da da)
(La-di-ya-da-da-da)
(La-di-da)
(Da-da-di-da)
(Da-di-da-da-da)
(La-di-da)
(Da da da)
(La-di-di-da-di-da)