Текст песни: Zanois. Mr. Menutia.

:
His face rests red and buried
in the crevasse of a tree,
embarrassed that we've discovered him in this state.
He shrugs and sobs and wipes his nose,
and awkwardly stumbles away.

A casual joke from a tourist sparks a realization
that his whole life is but one-fourth of their vacations
and he wonders why he has wasted his life...

This property is stunning,
stunning but surely not his.
It seems that a studio apartment's where he'll always live.
He has a vast knowledge
of literature from F to F,
yet 45 minutes of tidbits is all he has to give.

He prays for some sort of resolve,
but it appears he will remain an inconclusive novel.