Friday Night

And I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Like I had to spend last Friday night;
I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Dying by the record machine
All day cigarettes, all day entertain the void
There are so many things I should be doing
But I don’t, and I don’t change
All day kerosene, all day I play with matchbooks
I push them all away or burn them alive
In attempts to save me
Regret would require less arrogance
And I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Like I had to spend last Friday night;
I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Dying by the record machine
I like my self on the following conditions:
That I’m better than the next guy
At everything I’m into
And my looks are important
If I’m less sophisticated
And my girlfriend’s a bombshell
And I’m all she’s ever dated
And money’s an object if it pays for my ego
Power’s the drug, and pride is the needle
And it rips through my skin
And goes into my blood stream
Oh I feel like laughing, I feel like choking on it
Regret would require less arrogance
And I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Like I had to spend last Friday night;
I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Dying by the record machine
And I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Like I had to spend last Friday night;
I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Picking fights by the record machine
True, but not quite
That I’m tired of the fantasy
And I see the light
But the dark is so accommodating
The worst mistake I could make
Is watch you walking away
Not that I know how to change
I do it just the same
This Friday night
Like I had to spend last Friday night;
I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Dying by the record machine
I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Like I had to spend last Friday night;
I don’t want to spend this Friday night
Picking fights by the record machine