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)