Goodbye Amy

There ain’t twenty-four hours of news
But folks got to stay occupied
So we broadcast every bruise
And post every suicide
And we’re still not happy
We’re still not satisfied
There’s another demise on the horizon
To fill up our tedious lives
Goodbye, Amy. I’ll miss you so much
She’ll feel so fucking used
Indisposed and broken
The heroin and the muse
With her pipes still smoking
There never was money
In her getting clean
So she died a hundred times
In checkout magazines
Goodbye, Amy. I’ll miss you so much