No rest for the wicked,

no time to play.

Just the pounding of drums in my head,

every single day.

What does it mean?

Who�s to say?

I can�t even dream,

without the beat ruining it in some way.

There it goes,

pounding in my head.

No one else knows,

Maybe they�ll stop when I�m dead.

No rest for the wicked,

not today.

Not ever satisfied,

No how, not ever, no way.