Get-get-get inside your spaceship
You don't have a car, but you don't have to take this
You'll jet up out the city like your favorite authors
Look up at the stars, look up at the stars
You're on the fast track, living from a backpack
Leaving all the sad-sack suckers in the dust behind you
This is how you roll, permanent vacation
You put in your time, now you're out of patience

You could really go, no one's gonna stop you
You could really go, no one's gonna stop you
You could really go, but now you're getting caught up in it
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute

Think about your friends, think about your other friends
Thinking about you when they can, probably wondering what happened to you
Can't return a call, skipping every breakfast
He tried to be a writer but instead he only fact-checks
Out of shape and uninspired
You force down salad and you just feel tired
And wake up every day and spend it from the get-go
Chewing on your thumb and staring out the window

You could really go, no one's gonna stop you
You could really go, no one's gonna stop you
You could really go if you could spare the money
But you're burning through your twenties for a misdirected, energetic

Asshole living in a castle
Waving ’round a brass pole with a little ball on top
And barking like a tree, debating every sick day
Storming through the office like Katrina on the fifth day
Sitting with your pockets full of fists
And you're staring at your wrists and your scissors and you're shaking so bad
You don't have a car, but you don't have to take this
So pack yourself a pair of socks and get inside a spaceship

Daydream and think of the nights
When they'll sing your name and they'll write it in lights
When the daydream ends like a kick in the chest
You can go out dancing and hope for the best
But then you get so bored you're half-asleep
The girls are jealous and the boys are cheap
A circus of the stars, a battle of the sexes
We're all in love with dying and we're doing it in taxes

You could really go
No one's gonna stop you

But then you get that feeling, like a train-track killing
Like an old-time villain in a silent movie
Crying like a kid, squealing like a sex tape
Shrieking like a Beatle fan and kicking like a sensei
Sitting with your pockets full of fists and you're staring at your wrists
And your shoulders, and they're aching so bad
Now they're cutting care, now they're talking pay cut
No one better dare ask you how your day was
Please don't make me act it out, it's hard enough to talk about it
I'll just rent my DVDs and watch my internet TV
I'll bide my time and pay my rent till something knocks me to my senses
When I've had enough of dying in the day shift
I'll pack myself a pair of socks and get inside a spaceship