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Dammit I hate to be the type
That seeks to be amused
Dammit I hate to be the type
Dammit I hate to be the type
That's in it real quick before I'm done
Dammit I hate to be the type
Cause oh
When the world stays spinning
I feel tied
And oh
Where's exotic livin' like in Mumbai?
And oh
When the world stays spinning
I feel tied
And oh
There's a high beam in a low side
How would I go?
I don't even know
If I found myself a limerence of my own
Down the yellow road
Rushed in syllables
If I found myself a limerence
Of my own
Dammit I hate to be the type
That sticks to black like a parasite
Dammit I hate to be the type
Still sitting by the fire
Waiting just a bit in the month of June
Sitting by the fire