Lyrics: Owen. A Trenchant Critique.

You said that you finally heard the voices in my head
Or at least I think you did
I'm so easily confused, an inebriated fool
who doesn't know his right from left or often right from wrong

Once said and I quote I just read this thing that you wrote in college
A trenchant critique of anthropology being accepted as a social science
And not the art of educated observation

And all the things that we can learn about ourselves in the context of someone else

Another vaguely remembers swimming naked with strangers
One summer night on that ill-fated tour
Well those were formative years
Maybe that's why I like to drink my beers warm and I like to take my pants off
And I like a little ink on my girl

I always thought I'd end up owning my own boat before a home