Oh my god
Look at my funny fridge magnets
They're so punk rock
They say "cunt," and "fuck," and "bitch," and "shit"
Get together now
Get inside my polaroid
If one more non-smoker offers me a cigarette
I think I'll shoot myself in the head
Oh my god, Patti Smith
The Velvet Underground and old jean jackets
Now throw on your Chuck Taylor's and act real pissed
And wish that you lived in un-gentrified New York, circa 1976
This is a park
Filled to the brim with heroin
(Heroin)
This is a street
Where people are mugged every day
But the plus side is the Talking Heads are goin' on at 9
Ain't it so divine
Oh my god, Patti Smith
The Velvet Underground and old jean jackets
Now throw on your Chuck Taylor's and act real pissed
And wish that you lived in un-gentrified New York, circa 1976
Oh father please don't smite me
Making me grow this tiny mustache
Oh mother please don't cry for me
Making me wear un-prescription glasses
But then I bought my first album on vinyl
I don't even own a record player
Oh my god
Look at you
You flannel-wearing piece of shit
You ain't got no soul to give, heart to bleed
Thanksgiving was the worst because my Nanna saw my tattoo
Oh my god, Patti Smith
The Velvet Underground and old jean jackets
Now throw on your Chuck Taylor's and act real pissed
And wish that you lived in un-gentrified New York, circa 1976