Thank you New York - I hear you screaming
Call the police - While I'm dreaming
You cut your mouth on the bathroom sink
Your linoleum lips
Taste like ink
Three cheers for the girl with the blue hair
You're never too young to be a rockstar baby
Acid Wash my arms and legs
I hope the lobby boy finds us dead
Don't call the cops 'cause I'll be home soon
Lets kill the babysitter and make tinfoil hats
Ill use your name in vain
Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson
How minimalist of you
How post-punk, how lo-fi!
All my bones are broken
I'm gonna run to oregon
And gonna kiss some pretty girls
I'm sick of all these singer-songwriters
I'm sick of all these indie artists
I'm sick of all these artists
I'm sick of everything
I'm sick of you
I'm sick of me
I'm sick of her
I'm sick of all the girls in the world my eyes hurt
I'm gonna throw up on the highway sidewalks
C minor, D minor, E minor triad
All the pretty boys in their checkered shoes drinking their dollar gin
All my bones are broken
All my bones are broken
I broke all my bones
This is it