it dangles from his lips
the scorn hangs like a cigarette
he hasn;t even met me yet
doesn;t mean a thing
the wax museum breathes
it slithers out of taxicabs
a generation up for grabs
sell the rumor
sense of humor
doesn;t mean a thing

kamikaze fashion zombies on the prowl
scared to death of letting their defences down

very very plastic scary suicide
you;re undercooked & over-tried
& loverboy is on the phone;
keep pretending that you mean it
(i;ll pretend that i believe it)

it fizzes in my ear
sparkles like a disco ball
i find myself inside it all
i;m not above it
i know i love it
never miss a thing
no, i never miss a thing.

burned out at 13
punched a ticket for rock'n'roll heaven
growing young & sophisticated
into the thing that you & i hated

maybe you would rather use yr head
a little more bored, a little less dead
umbrella when the sky falls down
you;re not the only god in town.

hit the wall around 15
found a way to get my fingernails dirty
saw yr face for just a minute
a psychodrama with yr name featured in it
ambition;s such an easy drug-it conquers
everyone.

music: tragically hip; throwing off glass
mood: cheap & dirty