The endless line of Subarus
Stalled in our fathers' avenues
Throngs of bongs, a bag of shrooms
I'm sleeping when I look at you
Beneath your tattooed, sweaty stew
In faded ink of Prussian blue
The skin pulled tight on wooden drums
Granola kids are just having fun
But I'm not having fun
I'm not having fun no more
Neon girls who don't react
Sign electronic suicide pacts
Drive-thru nights in greasy hues
I'm lonely when I'm next to you
Those boys are fucking terrible
Marxist Americans, a parable
I burned my outdoor-rec degree
My mother's dating divorcees
And I'm not having fun
I'm not having fun no more
What's my Muslim name today?
I invent religious holidays
We resurrected Kurt Cobain
housebreaking all his dusty cliches
And I'm not having fun
I'm not having fun no more