King of the Hill of Beans

I'm the busiest bee, working tirelessly
Searching for the perfect words to express how hard I work

If this sounds circular, surely I'm not the first
Another snake eating its tail
A white whale, honey, a white whale

And it might take one hundred years
But all this work will disappear
These clamorous thoughts
That once seemed so important suddenly seem so small

Still, I've got to be heard, got to prove my worth
It can't be good to be king of a hill of beans
Because at the end of the day, we've all got to eat

And it might take one hundred years
But all this work will disappear
These clamorous thoughts
That once seemed so important suddenly seem so small

If these were my last words
Surely I'm not the first
To exclaim my disdain with this indifferent universe

And it might take one hundred years
I swear to God I'll disappear
These clamorous thoughts
Will be all but lost, all be written up
This mortality can get so depressing, so debilitating
I nearly forgot; it's good to be king, king of the hill of beans