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