(everybody's workin', always workin',
all day workin', all these people...
everybody's workin' towards
ends that they cannot meet)
the room fell backwards
and so did I
you cut off all of your fingers
just to get a little piece of the pie
you get so low
just to get so high
and everybody's lookin' for the sweet relief
Flat Foot Joe,
oh he walks the Appalachian Trail,
carryin' every last one of his prize possessions
inside of a watering pail
and he might succeed
and he might still fail,
out there lookin' for his sweet relief
but if you can't find it
well don't look at me
I'm just the same as everybody else
I'm just a flowerless bumblebee
the room looked backwards,
but not like Mary Grace.
She wasted all of fifteen, fifteen years
tryin' to keep that baby face
and all the king's horses
could not keep those lines in place
and now she's lookin' for the sweet relief
but if you can't find it
well don't look at me
I'm just the same as everybody else
I'm just a flowerless bumblebee
it's the same old hustle
from the New Year to the Christmas Day
desecratin' everything you used to find holy
just to make your madness pay
and you can choose to leave,
and of course you can choose to stay,
but either way you're gonna be lookin' for the sweet relief
and everybody, everybody, everybody's lookin'
everybody's lookin' for that sweet relief
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