I'm bored I'm heinously bored but all the bored children have found themselves A weekend to look forward to I don't want entertainment Or to eat at your table To wait in your basement to be rung like a school bell I need a slogan I can sleep under I need a slogan Cause my father was a punk rock banker watch him helter-skelter And Burgundian pinot noir was my mother's little helper Oh I grew up in passionate boredom And when I was born I was thrown into boredom Oh boredom boredom I'm bored of this talking God you're annoying oh I'm so exhausted Oh revery and gloom Scented candle in my room And dread and doom and gossip Oh it's a racket when you Chateauneuf-du-pape-it There is a cultural malaise in this house I want to see the evening through I want to crawl inside of you What do I have to do for you to pull out all my teeth? Isn't it fun? Some of these days, you'll miss me honey