Tekst:
Screeching Weasel Television City Dream

champagne and dance until it's dawn safe inside our fenced and guarded lawns let it burn down tonight ignore the blackened skies pouring down a bloody red rain your television

if you're gonna shoot up please don't use somebody else's needles 'cause you don't know where that somebody has been oh no if you're gonna use junk please

i'm on a mission i'm in position i'm on a fucking roll you ain't seen nothing i'll show you something out of fucking control i don't go back because my

so this bad joke comes to an end i can't believe that we were friends i don't know what you think about me do you really think that you're superior to

you say i need help you're gonna read me the riot act i'm stuck in the refrigerator of your ignorance well i don't wanna be here today i don't wanna be

happen at three or four a.m. some blurry half formed picture of some half forgotten friend becomes clear but i can't hold it ti happens in my dreams

the days are shorter now but you remember now i just wish that you weren't remembering that way you're gonna kill yourself everything is gray everything

do you ever shut up do you ever shut up why not gossip about martina hingis you can rhyme her name with cunnilingus "the u.s. open's a piece of piss

if you're gonna shoot up please don't use somebody else's needles 'cause you don't know where that somebody has been oh no if you're gonna use junk please