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Well I can see my teenage father standing straight on a desolate corner |
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In the shadow of tentacled towers by the red light of America |
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I imagine how his mother felt |
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When she heard that her husband was dying |
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And that underground heroes of the tarmac |
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Shoot smack were blowing up worlds |
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And damned out loud |
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Hey can you tell me how does it feel? |
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Yeah, tell me, can you imagine, for a second |
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Doin' anything that you don't have to? |
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Well that's what I'm accustomed to, so 'Hooray for me' |
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And fuck you |
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When I slept with stony faces on the riverbank |
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My angel devil reveler shook me desperately in dying |
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I don't exactly want to apologize for anything, and now |
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We're all mad and tangled, in secret rooms, with Roman candles |
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On an endless graveyard train |
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Yeah, tell me, can you imagine, for a second |
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Doin' anything just 'cuz you want to? |
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Well, that's just what I do, so 'Hooray for me' |
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And fuck you |
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Yeah, I was dreaming through the 'How's life' yawning |
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Car back at that night, she told me 'Mad and meaningless as ever' |
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And a song came on my radio like a cemetery rhyme |
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For a million crying corpses in their tragedy, of respectable existence |
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Tell me, can you imagine, for a second |
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Doin' everythin's you ever wanted to? |
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Well, that's just what I do, so 'Hooray for me' |
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Oh, yeah, I'm not respectable, and never sensible |
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May be incredible so damned irascible |
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I like the things I do so 'Hooray for me' |
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And fuck you |
