You’ve got a lead weight stuck in your head
You’ve got a way about you that puts everyone on edge
You like to pick at things
You love to pick at things
until there’s nothing left
You’ve got a vacuum caught in your ears
You’ve got the look, and wisdom beyond your years
You like to pick at things
You love to pick at things
until they come undone

But then the sea change
can wear you down
until you find your way
back to the underground

You’ve got a zeppelin tied to your neck
You’ve got a thin mustache and a book full of tricks
You’ve read it several times
You’ve got the paper cuts
to prove you’ve paid what’s due
You’ve got a clean slate tacked on your face
and your hair’s always perfectly out of place
You’ve got the best of us
so you can pick on us
as much as you please

But then the sea change
can wear you down
until you find your way
back to the underground



Lyrics submitted by jmburge

Tuner (The Critic) song meanings
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