She tells me every night: "I gotta go. I just do not know how to fall asleep in a bed that's not my own."
And every night, once she's gone, I reach over and hit my bong that's sitting on my bedside table.
Oh, fuck. Maybe I should just get drunk.
And I am done putting up with all the shit you put me through.
Here's to the end of the punk rock duo and their psychedelic motherfucking cartoons.
She would always ask me: "what do you think will happen next?"
And I'd reply every time with: "how the fuck in the world should I know?"
You always fuck around and talk about that drama fucking bullshit.
I don't care. I don't fucking know and I don't care.
And I am done putting up with all the shit you put me through.
Here's to the end of the punk rock duo and their psychedelic motherfucking cartoons.
"Is that really what you think of me?
Do I mean that little to you?
What about where I factor into this?
What about where I belong?"
Maybe I should talk to you instead of writing all these damn fucking songs,
But I won't.
'Cause I am done putting up with all the shit you put me through.
Here's to the end of the punk rock duo and their psychedelic motherfucking cartoons.
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