Well I can see my teenage father standing straight on a desolate corner,
In the shadow of tentacle towers by the red light of America, oh.
I imagine how his mother felt when she heard that her husband was dying,
And that underground heroes of the tarmac shooting smack were blowing up worlds
And damned out loud.
Hey, can you tell me how does it feel?
Yeah, tell me, Can you imagine, for a second,
Doing anything that you don't have to?
Well that's what I'm accustomed to so hooray for me.
When I slept with stony faces on the riverbank.
My angeldevil reveller shook me desperately in dying.
I don't exactly want to apologize for anything.
And now we're all mad,
And tangled,
In secret rooms,
With roman candles,
On an endless graveyard train,
Yeah, tell me, can you imagine, for a second,
Doing anything just 'cuz you want to?
Well, that's just what I do so hooray for me
I was dreaming through the howzlife, yawning, car black in my mind,
when she told me mad and meaningless as ever.
And a song came on my radio like a cemetery rhyme,
For a million crying corpses in their tragedy of respectable existence.
Can you imagine, for a second,
Trying half the things, you ever wanted to?
Well, that's just what I do so hooray for me.
Oh, yeah, I'm unrespectable, never sensible,
Maybe incredible, so damned irascible.
And I like the things I do so hooray for me
And fuck you.