An Old Scab Lyrics - A Worm's Life - Crash Test Dummies

I sit each morning, look at my empty notebook 

The room is quiet, the air conditioning sounds like rain falling 

Manic-depressive composer Robert Schumann, when he could not write 

He'd get down on his knees and he would pray for help 

It's not as bad as eating your own liver but still 

I'd like to think that there are better methods 

I try to tackle the page that lay before me but then I drift off 

And think about the concept of Ben Wah balls, I rouse myself 

And I finish washing dishes, make lists of errands 

Make all my phone calls and then I pray for help 

But each time I try to make a fresh stab 

I end up just picking at an old scab