Disco! in the Panic Room - Bug Hunter

I’ve got skills, they don’t know where to use me

I’m like the best-dressed dude at the nude beach

Nice to meet you

I am more the quiet type

I tend to be a shyer guy

As safe as knee and elbow pads

In cul-de-sacs with traffic lights

I spend most of my time alone

It’s not all that bad, you know

I lost some weight from anxious pacing talking on the telephone

If I look cool, I’m foolin' you

At any point you can assume

My mind’s computing every path that screws up what I want to do

Lock the door

Seal it, too

Dancing in the panic room!

I made a promise

Now I feel nauseous

As if I chugged a cup of stuff you clean your countertops with

But no Lysol will solve this

So I am out of options

It’s past my bedtime and I’m honestly exhausted

And I just want something more than nostalgia

Received like a hot dog down at the dog park

Be your best friend

The things I that I can’t shoulder well

I pass on to my older self

And hope I learn to cope so I don’t end up roped or overwhelmed

‘Cause vocally, I’m not the best

I’m openly admitting that

But if you cared I doubt you would have made it past McCracken, yeah

If I look brave, I’m secretly

Pretending I’m a different me

The one onstage who plays and sings and claps and shouts and basically

Behind the door

Just out of view

Dancing in the panic room

I made a promise

Now I feel nauseous

As if I chugged a cup of stuff you clean your countertops with

But no Lysol will solve this

So I am out of options

It’s past my bedtime and I’m honestly exhausted

But if you wanted

He-he-hey!

He-he-hey!

He-he-hey!

He-he-hey!

Though wouldn’t it be the best if all the answers to our questions

Came as sheepish realizations, obvious in retrospective

Like the answer for anxiety that’s crept into your head

Is as simple as your printer: you forgot to plug it in

Instead of playing Twister with my lyrics ‘cause I can

And filling every syllable with lots of bull, should I instead

Give you the simple sing-along you’re all hoping will come next

Or do I load this mother up and do-dah-do what I do best?

So here’s my promise

Don’t aim for flawless

‘Cause some of your best art is made with chalk on your sidewalk, it’s

Gone when you wash it off, it’s

Not made for fame or profits

It’s lookin' back and givin' all you got to top it

But if you want it

He-he-hey!

He-he-hey!

He-he-hey!

He-he-hey!

He-he-hey!