Beer, Graffiti Walls...

I’m filling the synaptic gaps inside my brain
One more shot and my liver starts calling me Shane
Vomit pigs and urine stalls
Broken knuckles and beer, graffiti walls…
If I trashed all my beliefs and plans
You could be my woman and I could be your man
Combat boots and overalls
Anarchy love and beer, graffiti walls…
Pens and walls and bathroom stalls… a potent combination
The beer is cheap, the talk is too… a dead-end situation
I’m hanging out talking Tom Stoppard and Travesties
Lenin, James Joyce, Tristan Tzara and me
We’re smudging the line between the workers' calls
And the petty bourgeois with beer, graffiti walls…
If art is life, and life is work, then where’s the workers' art?
A cult of the individual has left us in the dark
I’m so full of shit it makes me drool
'Cause I learned all my Marxism in school
I’ve got all day to write battle calls and manifestos on beer, graffiti walls…
And freeing the masses shouldn’t be so hard
I’ll put the whole thing on my dad’s credit card
I’m starting to think that life is like a shit’sandwich
Because it seems to me the more bread you’ve got, the less shit you have to eat
And why can’t people commit random acts of kindness, and senseless acts of
beauty?
You know, like Ramone and Louise, 100% true love forever
Yeah, we’re going up, yeah, we’re going up, yeah, we’re going up
But then we’re coming down, coming down, coming way, way, way down
Too cool for school and too dumb for the real world Johnny started a band
And started picking up pointers from beer, graffiti walls
But if he tells me, «Die for race and nation!»
I’ll say, «Die, nazi motherfucker!!!»
And, «Militant dykes kick ass!!!»