Fan Fiction
My life might end up shorter than yours
But it's quality, not quantity, you thimble-dicked man-whore
I don't wanna tell you lies when there's nothing to disguise
Just look at your life
You did that! You did that!
You done fucked up!
Why don't you take a little jaunt to Ikea or Anthropologie
Because you're living in a fucking funeral parlour
All I saw is something bright as a star in the
Dying ember you left inside the chamber
Of the Midwest redneck church where they turned you into
A man who dresses like Lurch
The ties, there in your eyes, the failure
I mean it when I say we're mean
We're the nightmare of your daydreams
We mean it when we say what we mean
The nightmare of your daydreams
I want to harm you
Instead I'll kiss you to show you I love you and I miss you
Well, fuck you
So now I'll leave a dump on your shitty world
Give you thump, thump, thump for my little girl
You shouldn't have fucked with her, man
Sarcasm and sex spasms
They are illusive to fools who look like you
Your therapist knows you're a failure
Hey, King Fucker:
We mean it when we say we're mean
We're gonna write about it so we don't drug about it
We're gonna sing about it so we don't drunk about it
We're gonna dress like teenage pimps and primp and preen about it
Until we vomit, lit and sick but never green about it
Armed only with lyrics one could not distinguish from the cascade of texts
I inflict on boys named Chris when my wife's mom is sick
But Hey, I feel shitty!
I'm aging backwards she's Blanchett, she's pretty
Because I had a muse but she was exposed to be some angry bro in my lady's clothes
Thursday, taking out the trash to be collected
I remarked to her it occurs to me that I was sub-molested
Stacy's mother knows twas I who got sexted
But with my influence on Stiflers, I may need to be arrested
And I have royalties that need to be collected
By Doghouse Records, mind you
Or Vagrant Records, mind you
Whichever one I was on, I'm forgetting at the moment
Whichever one I was on
Oh, fuck it
This is literally the bottom of the barrel shooting for the lowest branch
You're gonna hear it a lot
Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me
That sounds like an is a Real Boy track
And I'm aware of that but are you aware that I'm aware of that?
Because I'm walking away, trembling
Walking away but the mic cord won't reach that long
And I've still got it going on
After all these years I know I will never be alone
Why won't you pick up that phone?
Oh my god, I'm afraid to not go stiff
This death-wish stiff is stiff and bored
Now I'm lit like band fucking Lit
I have no drink or smoke to curb the enthused of my chemical dysfunction
My one chemical romance left me with one tattoo and one concussion
Cascade of texts I inflict on boys named Chris
Now we're like the Violent Femmes again
This stage was bred to bleed attrition
If it's a fiction we live I'm a fan
It's fan fiction
Fuck fucking fan fiction
Tonight, we raise our breath and we'll live ourselves to death
We all float in spinning prisons, choking on that goddamn prism
But I'm swimming in a goddamn prison
We are legends again, legends all again
And we're going off again
Those black outfits, they're slimming
And I'm swimming in a goddamn prison
Where we are all the same people and we all play the same role in the band
I used to pray for times like this. To rhyme like this
But I had to grind like that to shine like this
In the back of a paddywagon, cuffs locked on wrists
But it's over now
So we rise