Reinventing The Wheel To Run Myself Over Lyrics

Ever found yourself humming a tune and then suddenly, a phrase pops into your head? A phrase that sounds… odd. Like, really odd. That’s how I stumbled upon the magnificent, the bewildering, the utterly nonsensical “Reinventing The Wheel To Run Myself Over.”
Now, I’m no scholar of ancient lyrics. My musical taste is… eclectic. But this one? This one stuck. It’s not a chart-topper. You won’t find it on any “Greatest Hits” compilations. But it has a certain charm. A weird, captivating charm.
Think about it. Reinventing the wheel. It’s a classic idiom, right? It means doing something that’s already been done, usually in an inefficient way. It’s about needless effort. It’s about making things harder than they need to be.
And then, BAM! You add “to run myself over.” What a glorious, violent, self-inflicted twist! It takes the mundane act of redundant effort and injects it with a healthy dose of absurdity and physical peril.
I mean, who does that? Who dedicates their precious time and energy to meticulously crafting a brand-new wheel, only to then enthusiastically use it to flatten themselves? It’s the ultimate anti-hack. The pinnacle of poor planning. It’s like spending an hour ironing your socks, only to immediately roll around in the mud with them.
![Fall Out Boy - Reinventing the Wheel to Run Myself Over [Karaoke] - YouTube](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/JLTR0w_zs24/maxresdefault.jpg)
My mind races with the possibilities. Imagine the scene. A busy workshop. Sparks flying. Someone, let’s call him Bartholomew, is tirelessly hammering away. He’s got sweat on his brow. His muscles are aching. He’s building a wheel. A beautiful, perfectly round, brand-spanking-new wheel. His colleagues watch in awe. “What a magnificent invention, Bartholomew!” they exclaim.
And Bartholomew, with a proud, determined grin, replies, “Indeed! And now, for the final touch!” He then proceeds to place the finished wheel in front of himself, and with a mighty shove, rolls it directly over his own toes. Ouch.
It’s a darkly comical image, isn’t it? It speaks to a certain… je ne sais quoi of human endeavor. We strive for innovation, for progress, for improvement. We want to make our lives easier, more efficient, more… wheel-like. But sometimes, in our pursuit, we get a little carried away. We forget the ultimate purpose.

Perhaps “Reinventing The Wheel To Run Myself Over” is more than just a bizarre lyric. Perhaps it’s a commentary. A philosophical statement on the futility of certain actions. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s a song about a guy who really, really hates his job at the tire factory.
I like to think of it as a celebration of glorious failure. The kind of failure that is so spectacular, so utterly committed, that it transcends mere disappointment and enters the realm of art. It’s not just failing; it’s exceling at failing.

Think about those moments in your own life. You’ve probably “reinvented the wheel” at some point, haven’t you? Maybe you spent hours trying to perfectly fold a fitted sheet, only to have it spring back into a lopsided mess. Or you meticulously organized your spice rack alphabetically, only to forget where you put the salt three days later. We’ve all been there, doing things that feel like a lot of effort for a questionable outcome.
But the “run myself over” part? That’s where it gets truly special. It’s the kicker. It’s the mic drop of self-sabotage. It’s the commitment to the bit, no matter how painful.
I’ve tried to find the origin of these elusive lyrics. I’ve scoured the internet, asked fellow music enthusiasts, even consulted a few dusty encyclopedias. No luck. It’s as if these words exist in a musical void, a phantom limb of popular culture. Perhaps they were sung by a band that existed only in a dream. Or maybe a particularly avant-garde performance artist decided this was the perfect lyrical accompaniment to their interpretive dance about existential dread and misplaced footwear.

Whatever the origin, the sentiment resonates. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most entertaining things are the ones that make absolutely no sense. The ones that defy logic and embrace the absurd. The ones that make you tilt your head, scratch your chin, and then, inevitably, chuckle.
So, the next time you find yourself putting in a Herculean effort for a negligible reward, just remember Bartholomew. Remember the meticulously crafted wheel, the proud grin, and the inevitable, painful roll. It’s a testament to our capacity for both brilliant ingenuity and spectacular, self-inflicted silliness. And frankly, I find that incredibly entertaining. It’s an unpopular opinion, perhaps, but I’m sticking with it. Sometimes, reinventing the wheel is a prerequisite to a good laugh. Even if that laugh comes with a slight limp.
