Shine the headlight, straight into my eyes Like the roadkill, I'm paralyzed You see through my disguise At the drive-in, double feature Pull the lever, break the fever And say your last goodbyes Since I was born I started to decay Now nothing ever, ever goes my way One fluid gesture, like stepping back in time Trapped in amber, petrified And still not satisfied Airs and social graces, elocution so divine I'll stick to my needle, and my favorite waste of time Both spineless and sublime Since I was born I started to decay Now nothing ever, ever goes my way

Wenn die Kinder unerzogen Schon der Vater hat gedroht Der schwarze Mann, er wird dich holen Wenn du nicht folgst meinem Gebot Und das glauben wir bis heute So in Angst sind Land und Leute Etwas Schlimmes wird geschehen Das Böse kommt, wird nicht mehr gehen Und die Furcht wächst in die Nacht Tür und Tore sind bewacht Die Rücken nass, die Hände klamm Alle haben Angst vorm schwarzen Mann In Dunkelheit schleicht er heran Bist du nicht brav, fasst er dich an Traue keinem Fremden dann So viel Albtraum, so viel Wahn Und so glauben wir bis heute Schwer bewaffnet ist die Meute Ach, sie können es nicht lassen Schreien Feuer in die Gassen Und die Furcht wächst in die Nacht Gar kein Auge zugemacht Der Rücken nass, die Hände klamm Alle haben Angst vorm schwarzen Mann Wer hat Angst vorm schwarzen Mann Wer hat Angst vorm schwarzen Mann Wer hat Angst vorm schwarzen Mann Wer hat Angst Und die Furcht wächst in die Nacht Gar kein Auge zugemacht Die Rücken nass, die Hände klamm Alle haben Angst Schwarzer Mann Schwarzer Mann

I'm not here to entertain you I'm here to meet my friend the Russian The Irish, the German, the Columbian I don't care how bad I fuck up I care about how fucked up I get I'm not your clown I'm your dealer And I'm holding three bindles of bullshit And you're buyin' them 'cause you are addicted To the pure and totally uncut I'm not here to amuse you I'm here to abuse my body I'm here because old habits die hard And seriously, what else am I supposed to do? This isn't my job, my hobby, my habit It's sad, but this is my life Welcome to our mission statement Total self-debasement And not giving our all Watch us Fall! It's not that we don't pull it It's just that we only give about 60 or so percent Would you rather be fed bullshit From some 20-something, makeup wearing, popstar "This one goes out to all our fans all over the world Without you, we'd just be us. So, I just wanna say thank you! We fuckin' love you, Modesto!" Fuck you! And you're takin' it easy before the show So you won't lose your voice And disappoint your fans routine And you don't care about the children You don't even know them All you know is their money

Just like the Kennedys killed Marilyn Monroe The Reagans had a secret the public couldn't know At Winterland his wife was wankin' a kid And he couldn't let anyone know what she did The voters couldn't know about Nancy and Sid I'm sorry dear, but this is how it's gotta be You gotta kill the groupie and frame the junkie No one cares about Nancy Spungeon And Sid will be on the Rikers in the dungeon If you wanna be the first lady, you gotta get rid of Sid And make it look like an OD Make it look like an OD Make it look like an OD Make it look like an OD (make it look like an OD) Hinckley didn't do it for Jodie Foster He was a Pistols fan and a punk rocker He wanted revenge on the first lady But instead, he shot Reagan and James Brady Well, everybody knows was Mrs. Reagan did Sid never killed Nancy, Nancy killed Sid Now we all know what Nancy did (Nancy killed Sid) She stabbed the groupie and blamed it on Sid (Nancy killed Sid) Now we all know what Nancy did (Nancy killed Sid) She stabbed the groupie and blamed it on Sid

'There's something wrong with the kids in my neighbourhood They always listen to mom They disregard civil disobedience They'd rather do what they're told They don't drink, or fuck, or fight They sit home, and read, expand their minds There's something wrong with the kinds in my cul de sac Their always goin to church They dress well and they're Speaking articulate They show each other respect They're never late, don't smoke Or break rules They eat right, study hard They like school There's something wrong with the kids in my neighbourhood'

Possessions never meant anything to me I'm not crazy Well that's not true, I've got a bed And a guitar, and a dog named Bob who pisses on my floor That's right, I've got a floor So what? So what? So what? I've got pockets full of Kleenex and lint and holes Where everything important to me Just seems to fall right down my leg And onto the floor My closest friend linoleum Linoleum Supports my head Gives me something to believe That's me on the beachside, combin' the sand Metal meter in my hand Sportin' a pocket full of change That's me in the street with a violin under my chin Playin' with a grin Singin' gibberish That's me on the back of the bus That's me in the cell That's me inside your head That's me inside your head That's me inside your head

It's 3 o'clock at the Triple Rock, another round of watching Paddy talk It's where you wanna get snowed in when you get Snowed in, outside it's 10 below, is it day or night, we don't care or know What we know is that we don't wanna be Anywhere but here, please don't make us leave When in Minnesota and you got a drinking quota I'm seeing double at the Triple Rock, we're still here watching Paddy talk Then undress, then get out the duct tape The one question still remains, how much more art can we take? I'll let you know when the medication wears off I'm a religious drunk and this is where I pray The church of alcoholics can't break up the congregation Give us air to breathe, through carbonation We are at liquor church, genuflecting on barstools We're praying that the taps will keep the holy water flowing Key kicks of communion, then a long night of confessions Coming home afternoon seems to raise a lot of questions When in Minnesota and you got a drinking quota

We're the band with our own label That's money under the table, that's answering to no one But still, other bands just love to hate us Talking shit behind us, but smiling to our face That's OK, it's not that they don't like us They're just a little jealous, cause We're having more fun (The band that wouldn't die) We're the self-crowned kings of candor, sultans of slander Bastions of D.I.Y Which means we make more money, we've got better prescriptions We own most of our own music, no one's got their hands in our pockets We don't have management, we get to play loaded And only 3 months a year Some years we just take off, vacations are a write off And so is goin' out (fuck us) I suppose that's how we'll go out Played out and way after our time