|
|
|
These are good song lyrics too.
|
|
Slow slow quick quick slow -- ride.
At any moment, you know,
your manufactured cool could blow.
Welcome to the land of pointless and destructive.
You keep whining and crying into your beer,
complaining the reception doesn't come in clear
(you just can't make a connection).
What are all the pretty people on?
No one ever learns to speak American.
There are only so many Kung Fu movies you can watch.
Haircut, hometown, heroin friends.
You make excuses, you should make amends.
Who do you call for help when all your friends are dead?
Now they're calling to you from the bar,
and they're fucking with your film noir
and you wear your hope like Christmas.
Now I don't know how to break this to you
but her blue eyes were never blue.
So now the good times are gone but really, they never arrived.
The terrycloth's beneath the tie
and another liar's caught in a lie.
"I love you" hangs in the air like a subtitle.
There's a war going on inside the bar
she calls for the check, you call for the car.
And when you kiss her she tastes like hot candy.
Now you're just left to wonder
how she sized you up in three minutes or under.
She's out of your league, you're out of your mind.
Things only feel true
when someone's abusing you.
You are sometimes startled you are never surprised.
There are only two speeds: fast and faster,
now you're lashed to mast and lashed to master.
Whether you're in bed or in court, everybody gets off.
So she smokes to keep from eating
and you fuck her to keep from feeling
and this is a taste, and this is a waste
and these are all of your days sacrificed.
You're rocking out in an empty room
you've built your house, it's become your tomb.
Mmm thanks, she says, I'll keep my options open.
Now you're nervous with hope, nervous with fear
she's barely gone, and you're barely here.
Here comes the cocaine wakeup call.
And like a boy, not a slave to fame
you kissed lipstick only after money came.
Born in New York 30 years ago, you've died several times since.
Drive through tunnels and crawl through caves,
and suffer through a life no city can save.
They've got an unmarked car with your name on it.
So she smoked to keep from eating
and you fucked her to keep from feeling
and that was a taste, and that was a waste
now these are all of your days magnified.
Style over content. You know the other.
Keep slugging it out in the superstructure.
If you love something, chances are you can't afford it.
Forget what's ahead and what's past
and live every day as if it were the last.
The dead man never knows he's dead.
|
