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The city subway stations never glisten |
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The gates rise up like they belong in prison |
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And my balance is low |
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I better pick a good place, I got one ride to go |
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Your fucking cocaine party fucking freaks me out |
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When did Scott Weiland show up, how long's he sticking around? |
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I guess this new fare hike means that I'll ride my bike |
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Play video games and do other stuff that I like |
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And in the morning, cleaning up, we found these plastic bags |
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With a little bit of party left, and started to laugh |
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Man, I'm glad I passed out from the booze and the weed |
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'Cause the house was up till 6 AM doing speed |
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Now it's 1 AM and I'm quite a few in |
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I can barely make out where the bathroom line begins |
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And it's been moving five inches every fucking five minutes |
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I want to ask the overprivileged kids |
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If they would fucking mind, I gotta take a piss in the cocaine room |
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What is this, the line for lines, a long line for lines? |
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I'm getting claustrophobia from the twenty-something set with bleary eyes |
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What is this, the line for lines, a long line for lines? |
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I, I, I, I don't wanna be part of this Friday night or Saturday night |
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I, I, I, I don't wanna be part of this line for lines, long line for lines |
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I, I, I, I don't wanna be part of this night |
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When I go out these days, all I do is complain |
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About the booming bass and the shitty DJ |
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If I wanted to go to a dance club, I'd own a bottle of Brut |
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A closet full of Christian Dior and I'd be in a different room |
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'Cause we can dance to Otis Redding, P.O.S., and M.I.A. |
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And if you're on Serato Scratch, don't call yourself a DJ |
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Beat detecting's got no attitude, your tempo maps can't fill a room |
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But lemmings all have dancing shoes |
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And I'm just freaking out, you're assaulting me with thrusts like I'm an asshole |
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Sweating to the sounds of Billboard's Hot 100 |
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Like a total "yeah, bro!" dick, man, I thought that we all lived here 'cause we're different |
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I guess I was wrong this time, time after time |
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I, I, I, I don't wanna be part of this Friday night or Saturday night |
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I, I, I, I don't wanna be part of these coke-y times and eight dollar wines |
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I, I, I, I don't wanna be part of this night |
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The city subway stations never glisten |
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The gates rise up like "What's up? You're in prison!" |
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Confined by alcoholism |
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And lack of better decisions for having fun on the weekends |
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But this shitty atmosphere keeps bumming me out |
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Don't want my Club MTV, I hate Downtown Julie Brown |
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I guess these new prices hikes will make me grab me light |
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Climb the fire escape to the roof with a book that I like |
