Welcoming you to Styrofoam City
Where I think they’re laughing at your band
Sipping subtle drinks out of paper hats,
Collecting punctuations and nicotine brands
Beat down buckles and noisy harps
Selling me a fickle Joe Pesci memory
Gawking at each other’s gawks,
Cementing socialite crops,
You think they see little old me?
I think I really want to hold their hand
I think I want to hate my band
Fuzzy neon kiss
I think I wanted another
Noisy chemical hiss
I can’t sleep alone tonight
You don’t even know
How perforated this bed frame is
You don’t even see
How much burning means to me
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